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TENANTS 
OF AN OLD FARM; 



Leaves from the Note-Book of 
A Naturalist. 



By HENRY CHRISTOPHER McCOOK, 

D.P., sen., l.L.D. 



WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY 
LORD AVEBURY (Sir JOHN LUBBOCK). 

ILLUSTRATED FROM NATURE. 
REVISED EDITION-TENTH THOUSAND. 



PHILADELPHIA: 

GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO. 

London : Hodder & Stoughton, 



THE UfcRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two Copies Rocoivod 

DEC 29 1902 

Copyright Entry 

CLASS CC XXc. N». 

COPY B. 






Copyright, 1884, 1902, 

by henry c. mccook. 



Published December, 1902. 




To the Memory of 

MY MOTHER, 

CATHARINE JULIA SHELDON McCOOK, 

Whose Energy, Intelligence, 

.and Delicate Culture, Lofty Character, 

Exalted Aims and Maternal Devotion, 

added Honor to Womanhood, 

and gave Her Motherhood an Imperishable Influence 

and Charm, 

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED 

In Grateful and Loving Homage 

BY THE AUTHOR. 



LORD AVEBURY'S INTRODUCTION 

TO THE ENGLISH EDITION. 



My friend Dr. McCook, already well known 
to naturalists for his " Natural History of the 
Agricultural Ants of Texas/' and his work on 
" The Honey and Occident Ants," has recently 
published a volume of Natural History in a 
more popular form, which is about to appear 
in an English edition, and is anxious, though 
I should hardly have thought it necessary, for 
a few lines of introduction to English readers. 

The President of the Linnaean Society* has 
done me the honour of asking me to perform 
this pleasant task. He might well have done 
so himself, but devolved it on me, because in 
''Tenants of an Old Farm" Dr. McCook deals 
with friends of mine, — with insects, and par- 
ticularly ants, to which I have paid special 
attention. I have much pleasure in bearing 
testimony to the fidelity and skill which Dr. 
McCook has devoted to the study of these 
interesting atoms ; and those who read his 

* W. Carruthers, Esq., F.R.S., Keeper of the 
botanical Department at the British Museum. 



n PREFACE TO ENGLISH EDITION. 

work may safely depend on the accuracy of 
what he says. I confess that, like Dr. McCook 
himself, I am one of those who think "that 
the truths of Nature are attractive enough in 
themselves, and need not the seasoning of 
fiction, even of so mild a flavour as offered by j 
the 'Tenants.'" But both he and I are 
perhaps too much devoted to Natural History 
to be able to judge for others on this point. 
Moreover, as regards the attractive manner 
in which the book is written, English readers 
have much more conclusive testimony than 
any single opinion — and especially one which 
might be biassed by friendship, for they have 
the evidence of the wide popularity which the 
work has already attained in America. The 
title seems to me very happily chosen. It 
reminds us that we are not the only tenants 
of our farms — that the fields and hedges, 
woods and waters, all around us, teem with 
a complex, rich, and interesting life. But 
nature will speak only to those who listen 
with love and sympathy ; and of this varied 
existence Dr. McCook has proved himself one 
of the most patient and loving students. 



A-J&M**^ 



AUTHOR'S PREFACE TO FIRST EDITION. 



The purpose of this book is to present a series of 
exact truths from Xatural History in a popular form. 

The author firmly believes that study of the struc- 
ture, conditions and behavior of all created things 
highly tends to elevate human character. Under such 
conviction he consented to write a number of essays 
upon insect life with a particular view to his own 
specialties — ants and spiders. It was agreed that these 
essays should express the latest and best results of 
scientific research, and thus have a real scientific 
value and standing. As to form, the papers were to 
be adapted to the taste and understanding of lay or 
non-scientific readers. 

This original plan was afterward so far changed, 
under the persuasion of friends, as to give the essays 
a colloquial form, introducing thereinto something of 
that interest which attaches to the play of various 
human characters. 

The author is free to confess that the change was 
made after much hesitation on his part. Like most 
naturalists, he thinks that the truths of iSTature are 
attractive enough in themselves and need not the 
seasoning of fiction, even of so mild a flavor as offered 
by the "Tenants." Moreover, he seriously distrusted 
<vii) 



viii PREFACE. 

his ability to cast the natural facts at his command into 
any narrative form that would reasonably satisfy the 
just demands of literature. Nevertheless, as those 
whose judgment he most trusted believed that such 
a form would give his studies a wider circulation, 
a kindlier welcome, and so a larger influence, he ven- 
tured upon the proposed change. 

Whatever ma} r be tUe verdict on the above point pro- 
nounced by those who may read these pages, this at 
least should be said : the facts in Natural History here 
presented may be accepted as correct, or as nearly so 
as is allowed one who works in such a" field. Most of 
the facts given have come under the writer's own ob- 
servation. Where, he has gone to other naturalists for 
information he has used the utmost care to be accurate. 
These remarks apply also to the popular superstitions 
concerning insects for whose expression " old Dan" and 
" Sary Ann" have been invented. Indeed Dan is not 
so much an invention as an adaptation of a real char- 
acter. 

The plan as originally proposed included references 
to all works consulted, and credit to every author cited. 
It is a cause of serious regret that this feature had to 
be dropped as 'obviously out of place in a scientific 
pastoral like the " Tenants," however proper in a series 
of scientific essays. All the heartier, therefore, are the 
thanks here rendered to the earnest, loving and labor- 
ious naturalists who have contributed by writings and 
word of mouth to these pages. 

It only remains to be said that the numerous illustra- 



PREFACE. ix 

tions (with a single exception) have been prepared 
expressly for this work, and (with very few exceptions) 
have been drawn from nature or after the author's 
sketches from nature. They are not only original — 
many of them presenting subjects in natural histor}' 
that have never before been illustrated — but are cor- 
rect, and, for the most part, artistic, although scientific 
verity has been the chief aim. To Mr, Edward Shep- 
pard and Mr. Frank Stout, who made the larger part 
of the natural history drawings, especial recognition is 
due. The admirable comical adaptations of Mr. Dan 
Beard are, of course, sui generis, and are not without 
real value in illustrating the text which they brighten 
with the play of mirth. The absence of his skillful 
hand from the closing chapters is owing to an accident 
which threatened the loss of his eyesight, a calamity 
that happily has been averted. 

In the belief that this book contains enough original 
observations to make it valuable to working naturalists, 
an index .of the scientific matter has been prepared. 

Philadelphia, September, 1884, 



PREFACE TO REVISED EDITION, 



In the eighteen years that have passed since this 
book was printed there have been many changes in 
the scientific nomenclature of plants and animals. In- 
creased knowledge has required the shifting of genera 
and species, and the rearrangement of names. Insects 
and spiders have shared this wide and general change ; 
and, accordingly, " The Tenants " has needed revision. 
I have, therefore, gone over the pages for the tenth 
edition in order to bring them up to the present con- 
dition of science. In this work I have been kindly 
aided by some of my entomological friends whose 
specialties cover orders of which I have no special 
knowledge. Professor Henry Skinner, M. D., has 
gone over the Lepidoptera; Mr. Ezra T. Cresson and 
Mr. Wm. J. Fox, the Hymenoptera ; and Mr. J. A. Gr. 
Rehn, the Orthoptera. 

I have had many testimonies to the influence of this 
book in winning both youth and adults to love and 
study Nature and our " little brothers " of the insect 
world. In some cases a permanent bent has been 
given which led to a career as professional naturalists 
and teachers of natural history. In giving the Revised 
Edition to the press I indulge the hope that the vol- 
ume may continue its helpfulness and fulfil its mission 
more perfectly. 

Henry C. McCook. 
The Manse, Philadelphia, 
October 1, a.d. 1902. 



CONTENTS. 



Chapters. page 

I. Transformed and Transferred . . 9 
II. Renewing Old Acquaintance . . .13 

III. The Tenants Preparing for Winter . 26 

IV. Winter Tenants of Our Trees . . 39 
Y. Moths at the Fireside .... 62 

VI. Pellionella and Pomonella — A Chroni- 
cle of "Old Clo's " and Windfalls . 84 
VII. Measure for Measure .... 102 

VIII. Insect Troglodytes 121 

IX. Cave-dwelling Insects .... 143 

X. The History of a Humble-Bee . . 162 
XI. Insect Engineering — Bridge - building 

and Ballooning Spiders . . . 185 

XII. Argonaut and Geometer. . . . 206 

XIII. A Battle, a Conquest, and a Night- 

Raid— The Cutting-Ant of Texas . 230 

XIV. A Tour Through a Texas Ant-Hill . 252 
XV. The Cricket on the Hearth . . . 277 

XVI. Music-Making Insects .... 299 

XVII. "Sermons in "—Ants . . . 320 

XVIII. Seventeen Years Under Ground . . 352 

XIX. Housekeeping in a Basket . . . 377 

XX. Sartor Insectorum 400 

XXI. Nature's First Paper-Makers . . 426 

XXII. New Tenants and Old Friends i . 448 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



Frontispiece ......... 

1. Argiope and Snare . . • . . - . 

2. Studying Argiope' s Snare 

3. Cocoon of Argiope aurantia . . . ' . 

4. A Brood of Spiderlings on their First Outing 

5. Spiders at Cape May ...... 

6. " Collecting a Specimen " ..... 
?. " Seal page "........ 

8. Snare and Egg-sacs of Cyelosa .... 

9. Cyclosa's Cocoons, with Scalpage 

10. Egg-sac of Silvery Argiope . 

11. Snare of Argiope argyraspis . 

12. Decoration of Argiope' s Snare .... 
13a Polyphemus Moll) (FeiiKiie i 
136 Larva of Polyphemus Muth . 
13c Cocoon of Polyphemus Moth .... 

14. Dame Nature Strips Young Polyphemus tor Eest 

15. Pupa of Polyphemus 

16. Cecropia Moth {Samia cecropia) .... 

17. Pupa of Butterfly Vanessa 

18. Cluster of Cynthia Coeoons . 

19. The Sparrows' Sparring Match .... 

20. The Rape of the Yarns . ' . 
21; Cocoon of Cecropia Moth 

22. Cecropia Cocoon Partly Dissected 

23. Potato-worm, Larva of Phlegethontius qidnque-maeidata 

24. Pupa of Potato-moth 

25. Phlegethontius quinque-maculata 

26. Kiddle of the Sphinx 

27. The Shadow of a Moth 

28. Death's Head Moth and Larva .... 

29. The Mistress's Contribution .... 

30. A Case of " Old Clo's '" and Charity . 

31. Burrow of Apple-worm 

32. Cocoon, Pupa, Female and Larva of the Codlin 

Moth, and a Parasitic Ichneumon Fly 

33. A Mothical Version of Tell and the Apple . 

(xii) 



8 

15 
18 
21 
23 
25 
27 
28 
32 
33 
35 
37 
38 
40 
41 
42 
45 
46 
4o 
50 
53 
55 
59 
63 
67 
69 
70 
72 
76 
79 
82 
65 
89 
92 

95 
99 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

34. The Geometric! Horror ...... 

35. Tussock Moth, Notoloplius leucostigma, Male, Female 

and Larva 

36. Cocoon of Tussock Moth 

37. Our Imported Protectors 

38. A Mother Moth 

39. A Geometrid Turnverein 

40. Orchard Moth 

41. The Clothes Barker's Paradise .... 

42. Ancieut Cave-dwellers 

43. Cave-dwellers, Ancient and Modern . 

44. Turret Spider's Nest and Tower ... 

45. Cotton-lined Nest of Turret Spider 

46. A Mother Spider and her Brood 

47. " She had so many children, she didn't know what to 

do" . . : 

48. Seaside Residence of Turret Spider 
40. Entrance to the Humble Bees' Cave . 

50. The Mole Cricket— its Cave and Eggs 

51. Queen, Male, Workers Minor and Major of Humble 

Bee (Bonibus Virginicus) ... 

52. Wild Aborigines Exterminated by the Enticements of 

the Jug 

53. Cave and Cell-nest of Humble-Bees 

54. The Dude of the Beehive — Poor Drone ! 

55. Humble-Bee Upholstery- Worker Burrowing for Root 

lets, and Queen Covering her Nest . 

56. Mattress-making — " Tucking up the Tufts of Up 

holstery " . 

57. Apiarian Enemies and Friends .... 

58. Curtain of Wax-workers ..... 

59. Face of Humble-Bee — Showing Tongue 

60. Mrs. Bumble Fills the Honey Jars 

61. The Basket Bee 

62. Hind Leg- of a Working Humble Bee, to Show the 

Basket ........ 

63; The Basket-bui'dened Bee comes Home 

64. A Spider's Suspension Bridge .... 

65. Kiting the Cataract 

66. Ballooning or Flying Spiders .... 

67. Ballooning Spider Preparing to Ascend 

68. The -Original Brookline Bridge — " Engineer Arachne 

Makes the First Crossing 

69. Silken Bridge Built by Baby Spiders . 

70. Water- Spiders and their Egg-Sac Caisson . 



103 

105 
106 
109 
110 
111 
113 
115 
123 
127 
131 
133 
137 

138 
149 
145 
149 

153 

156 

159 
161 

165 



167- 
172 
175 
177 
179 
180 

181 
182 
190 
195 
197 
199 

201 
204 
208 



»v LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

71. Putting Spokes to the Wheel ..... 211 

72. The First Radii 211 

73. Alternate Apposition ...;... 213 

74. Spiral Foundations — Putting in the Spirals . . 215 

75. Arachne's Pearls — Viscid Beads 217 

76. Preceptor to His Majesty : Robert Bruce and the 

Spider . . . 219 

77. "Nobody in, Sir, Pass On !" 222 

78. Winged Female, Male, Soldier and Worker-Major of 

Cutting- Ant (Attafervens) . . . . . 237 

79. Mound-Nest of Cutting- Ant 239 

80. Procession of Parasol or Cutting-Ants .... 241 

81. The Parasol Ant — An Era met Robinson Crusoe . . 242 

82. Defoliated Twig of Pride-of-China-Tree ... 244 

83. Ant Making a Cutting from a Live Oak Leaf . . 245 

84. Head of a Cutting Ant. 245 

85. Ants Bewitching Cows . . . . . . .249 

86. Knights of Myrmecology Storming the Ant-Hill . 255 

87. View of Trench Exposing the Interior of Cutting- Ant 

Hill 256 

88. Cave of the Cutting-Ant, Showing the Leaf-Combs . 258 

89. Pride-of-China-Tree Stripped of Leaves on One Side 

by Cutting-Ant 261 

90. An Underground Route of Cutting-Ants . . . 264 

91. The Gate Closed 266 

92. The Gate Open 267 

93. Preparing to Close the Nest 268 

94. An Emmet " Dumping " — A Mason Squad at Work . 272 

95. A Patent Ant Exterminator . . . . . .274 

96. The Cricket on the Hearth 279 

97. White Crickets, Male and Female .... 285 

98. Black Crickets {Gryllus Pennsylvanicus) . . . 291 

99. The White Cricket's Serenade 293 

100. Dan's Ideal Cricket on the Hearth — Sarah Blows the 

Conch-shell for Dinner 296 

101. Katydids, Male and Female 301 

102. Cicada, Female and Male ; Locust Dissosteira Carolina 311 

103. The Music of Boyhood— A Reminiscence . . .318 
104- The Blue Church .324 

105. The Grasshopper's Dirge ...... 327 

106. Agricultural Ants Engaged in Cutting Grass • • 331 

107. Front Yard Roads of Ants' Nests . . . .334 

108. Ant Clearing in a Weed Forest 336 

109. Undergrade x'Vnt-road in Fairmount Park . . . 338 

110. Granaries, Showing Seeds and Stores .... 34.3 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



111. Mound-nest of Occident-Ant 

112- Interior Plan of Storerooms and Galleries 

113- Open Granary of Harvesting- Ant 

114. Occident-Ant Gathering Sunflower Seed 

115. Granaries of the Pennsylvania Harvester 

116. Egg-nests of Mother Cicada . 

117- A Leap for Life — the Cicada Underground 

118- Fleeing from the Flood — Cicada Towers 
119. Out of the Shell at Last 
120- Basket on Pine ..... 
121. Basket-worm Drawp Up to Feed or Spin 

122- Prospecting Bag-worm .... 

123- Feeding on Pine • . . . . 

124. Cutting a Twig of Arbor Vitae 

125. How the Bag-worms Walk and Climb . 

126. Sewed Leaf-nest of the Spectacle Spider Epeira co»- 

spicellata) 

127- Leaf-nest of the Shamrock Spider {Epeira 

128- Nest of Leaf-cutting Bee 
129. Rolled Leaf-nest of Tortricid Moth 
130-131. Work of Leaf-rolling Moth . 

132. Nest of Leaf-rolling Caterpillar • 

133. Showing How the Leaf is Curled . 
134-135- Female and Male of the Tent-caterpillar Moth 

136. Nest of the Tent-caterpillar Moth 

137. Nest of the Ringed or Rust-red Wasp (Polistes anuxi- 

laris) 

138. Nest of American Hornet ( Vespa maculata) 

139. Interior of Hornet's Nest, Showing the Combs . 

140. Wa6p's Nest with Tubular Entrance . 



rifolium) 



344 
346 
346 
347 
348 
357 
363 
368 
371 
385 
386 
387 
389 
393 
395 

403 
405 
409 
413 
416 
417 
417 
421 
423 

430 

435 
439 
445 



CHAPTEE I. 

TRANSFORMED AND TRANSFERRED. 

At last the old farm-house at Highwood had a tenant. 
For years it had stood vacant, thanks to the conserv- 
ative spirit of the owner, a wealthy rural manufac- 
turer, who refused to lease it save on condition that all 
its antique style and fixtures should be maintained. 
Thanks, also, to the luxurious notions of American 
housekeepers, no acceptable tenant had yet been found 
willing to submit to the conditions. 

With that steadiness which marks the return of un- 
inhabited places to a state of nature, the house and its 
surroundings had fallen into decay. The premises were 
in sad contrast with the thrifty appearance of the place 
in the day of good Farmer Townes, who had lived in it 
from his infanc} r until death. Thus by a kind destiny 
Highwood was reserved for us. Very cheerfully we 
covenanted well and truly to preserve to the place all 
its primitive features. The ancestral shrines of the 
Lares and Penates of the old Quaker farmer and his 
Quaker forefathers should not be disturbed by the in- 

r 



10 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

vading family of " world's people." On the other hand, 
the proprietor, heart-sore over the advancing decay of 
his property, willing to serve a friend, and, at the same 
time seat him in his own near neighborhood, under- 
took to introduce enough modern improvements to 
bring into Highwood a reign of comfort and health. 
Therefore, we signed the lease and became the Tenants 
of the Old Farm. 

On the first day of October we took possession. A 
bright, warm morning, well worthy to open the door of 
that month whose varied beauties and rich vitality 
make it the halcyon season of our American year, 
" Old Dan," a colored laborer, met us at the road-side 
gate with pleasant smile, polite bow, and a hearty 
" Welcome to Highwood !" The broad lane through 
which we drove was skirted on either side by a row of 
trees — on this side locusts, a favorite wood with our 
fathers ; on the other, cherries, a cann}' or benevolent 
mingling of the useful and ornamental, for which the 
country-side boys had inwardly blessed the memory of 
Friend Townes. 

Hugh Bond met us at the yard-gate. " Our farmer " 
we called him ; our man-of-all-work he was, in fact, to 
be. He greeted us with a quiet u Good morning," be- 
coming equally an independent freeman and an honest 
employe, and proceeded with much satisfaction to show 
us the " improvements " that had been wrought. They 
were visible enough to our eyes, but why should we 
recite them here ? Suffice it to say the old trees near 
the front had been spared, but trimmed high up to 



TRANSFORMED AND TRANSFERRED. 11 

admit the sunlight to the chill stone walls ; a new porch 
guarded the threshold, instead of its tumble-down pre- 
decessor ; inside, the wainscoting had been repaired, 
walls neatly papered, and, finally, modern grates filled 
most of the wide chimney-places, a concession to the 
scarcity of wood and the abundance of coal. With 
warm carpets under foot, the household furniture in 
place, the pretty curtains at the square, small-paned 
windows, and the general air of coziness and home that 
filled all the house, like the odor of Mary's ointment, it 
was indeed a transformation. What eye could have 
seen through and beyond all the cheerlessness, disorder 
and dirt of the miserable farm-house that I looked at a 
month ago, the possibilities of so bright a home ? 
Whose heart had the cunning to devise, whose hands 
the deftness to bring about this change ? — whose but 
the dear housewife's, who beamed amidst it all with a 
face from which, for the hour, happiness and content 
had driven the anxiety that had stopped thereon too 
often during the last year ? Yes, the magic wand that 
had summoned back the exiled fairies of home was the 
touch of the New Mistress of the Old Farm. 

" A year of retirement and rest will restore his vigor 
and save him for the future.*' 

That was the ultimatum of Doctor Hayes. Promptly 
the mistress assented. The master yielded to the 
inevitable only after a long, hard struggle. Do you 
wonder ? An active life planted in a great city and 
come to the meridian of manhood, has many and 
strong roots. They run deep, they branch widely, they 



12 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

clasp and entwine tightly a multitude of persons, ob- 
jects, causes, plans. It is no light work to tear them 
up on sudden notice and transplant them to a rural 
home. But we have paid this penalty to over-work, 
and now for a year shall try the virtues of " vegetat- 
ing. " To work in the field Or sleep in the house ; to sit 
or walk or ride or recline ; to keep the mind pleasantly 
occupied and the body in the open air ; to drift on easily 
with time and chance, and to — wait ! Such is the life 
which the Doctor bids me live. Well, a worse prescrip- 
tion perhaps might have been prepared. I shall take 
my medicine honestly, for, in sooth, one cannot — as 
with other doctors' nostrums that I wot of — throw this 
remedy out of the window. 



CHAPTEK II. 

RENEWING OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 

" We are not the only tenants of this Old Farm !" 

'•Indeed!" said the mistress, resting fhe feather- 
brush a moment, for she was dusting the bric-a-brac 
upon our little parlor mantelpiece — "indeed ?" 

The first utterance was exclamatory, the second in- 
terrogatory, and the two together, taken with the 
glance cast at her spouse, expressed surprise, incred- 
ulity and inquisitiveness in due proportion and succes- 
sion. 

I stood at the open door, fencing out with my walk- 
ing-stick our watch-dog "Dolf," who was always in- 
clined to run into the forbidden precincts of the parlor. 
We were outfitted for a long walk, Dolf and I. 

" It is quite true," I said, solemnly ; " we are not the 

only tenants. There are a score — a hundred — in fact T 

know not how many races of inhabitants here, all to the 

manor born, and with a pedigree ante-dating William 

Penn and his charter, his treaties and his aboriginal 

treators. They are the real ' original inhabitants ' — 

the birds and beasts and flying-creeping things. I 

made the discovery yesterday. I am going to make 

the acquaintance of my fellow-tenants to-day. Good- 

by, my dear. Come, Dolf!" 

13 



14 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

We walked out, leaving the mistress brushing the 
mantelpiece, with a brightened look, for, thank God ! 
her spouse had found at last a congenial outdoor 
occupation. JSTot a new one, however, by any means. 
Months afterward I learned that in the conspiracy for 
my health between doctor and wife there had been 
strong reliance upon a revival of the early tastes and 
pursuits of a naturalist, which had been pushed to the 
wall by engrossing business, to tide over a crisis, send the 
invalid into the health -giving fields, and hold him there 
content during the interval of rest. 

"It was a happy moment indeed," the mistress 
said, " when the returning interest in your old studies, 
announced at our parlor door, showed me that the spirit 
of languor and decline had given back before a rising 
current of vitality. It was a red-letter morning, that, 
in my life, and the rainbow of hope bent above the 
old farm-house the livelong day." 

Meanwhile, quite unconscious of the little woman's 
secret joys, master and dog were tramping across the 
meadow toward the small stream that threads the farm 
known as Townes' Run. The feathery grasses grew high 
along the banks ; clumps of tall reeds stood in the little 
basins like squads of grenadiers ; tufts of golden rod and 
wild asters, weeds and youngling bushes overhung the 
narrow channel. Yesterday I had found there, as I had 
carelessly strode on, the snare of a friend of other days, 
the Orange Argiope — Argiope aurantia. I stooped to 
look and admire the comely spider hanging upon her 
white central shield. (Fig. 1.) 




FIG. 1 — AliGIOPE AND SNAKE. 



15 



16 TENANTS OF AX OLD FARM. 

You do not believe, perhaps, in the sudden birth of a 
soul into a new passion, or its sudden palingenesis — its 
rebirth — into an old love and life ? Nevertheless, as I 
kneeled in the grass before that web of silken threads, 
brought out in detail against the background of a black 
s-louch hat held behind it, the old passion came back as 
with a bound, and seated itself in my heart. Many 
years before this, during a brief enforced idleness, in a 
moment like the present, when the body was drifting 
deviously before an aimless wind, a similar vision had 
awakened, as by a new birth, the first special love of a 
naturalist. Memory now recalled vividly the whole 
outward details of that scene, indeed my very thoughts 
and feelings. Was it merely a trick of mental associa- 
tion ?. When forests of black-jack oak succeed burned 
pines on a Jersey barren, and chestnut groves follow a 
spruce-clearing in the Alleghanies, botanists suggest 
that it is simply a return to au earlier state, permitted 
by a removal of the restraining, conditions. Do old 
mental, moods, long buried under other courses ot 
thought and emotion, spring up in full force again when 
overlying habits are set aside ? But this is a digression 
into the field of philosophy. We return to our meadow 
and the Orange Argiope. 

She is among the most beautiful of our native spiders, 
and is our largest species of orb weavers, with the ex- 
ception of Wilder's Xephila (NepJkila Wilder i ) of 
the far Southern states. She is quite continental in 
her habitat, as I have traced her westward through 
Michigan, Illinois, Wisconsin, Nebraska, to the Rocky 



RENEWING OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 17 

Mountains, northward to Vermont, and southward as 
far as Texas and Florida. She has adapted herself to 
the widely-separated conditions of this immense terri- 
tory without any perceptible variation in form or habit. 

Let me describe her : her cephalothorax (united head 
and chest, or head-thorax) is robed in a beautiful 
silver-drab, so that thus far she has adopted the tradi- 
tional color of the Society of Friends. But in the rest 
of her body she is not so orthodox, for the abdomen 
is beautifully marked with black, orange and brown. 
Her eight legs are dark orange, ringed with brown and 
black. She has no fixed popular name, although I have 
heard her called the large meadow spider. She belongs 
to the group known as orb weavers (Orbitelarirr), because 
of the wheel-shaped geometric snare which the}' spin. 
There is a peculiarity in her snare, as it is generally 
formed, which at once marks it. In the centre, or hub, 
is woven a thick white silken oval patch, from the top ot 
which extends upward a ribbon of like material. From 
beneath runs downward a zigzag cord, which resembles 
more closely than anything I know in natural spinning- 
work, the "winding-stair" up Avhich the unhappy fly 
was "dragged into the dismal den," according to the 
plaintive school-book classic of the " Spider and the 
Fly." Argiope loves such sites as the reedy banks of 
Townes' Run, and one will often see her web swung 
among the tall grasses and bushes, while the occupant 
hangs head downward upon her central shield. 

I had unfolded a light camp-stool and was seated con- 
tentedly-sketching this pretty object when a light tread 



"'-■' 




RENEWING OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 19 

was heard in the grass, and a woman's voice saluted 
me. Abby Bradford is a bright New England girl, of 
gooci family, good education, good manners, and good 
looks withal. She had held a position under the govern- 
ment in Glen Mills, just beyond, where the paper used 
in national bank notes had been made. When that 
most convenient medium of exchange, the fractional 
currency, was so unwisely abolished, Abby's occupa- 
tion was gone, but an engagement to teach Highwood 
district school recalled her from her Massachusetts 
home. After the fashion of the country-side, she must 
find a home in one of the rural families, and very gladly 
wife had welcomed her to the Old Farm. Her presence 
would relieve the solitude of our countLy-place, which 
was our advantage ; and a kindly home with congenial 
friends was hers. We shall know her better by-and-by, 
but I may say here that we had cause often to con- 
gratulate ourselves upon the good fortune that brought 
the school-mistress into our family. 

"What!" she said, when we had exchanged greet- 
ings, "are you sketching? I did not know that you 
were an artist." 

"I am not an artist,' 1 T answered; "but necessity 
has forced upon me a little rude skill with the pencil. 
Will you see my work?" I gave her the note-book, 
and pointed to my subject hanging among the golden 
rods and grasses at our feet. 

" A spider ? Oh, the ugly creature I" 

The young lady stepped backward a pace with this 
characteristic exclamation. As though to resent the 



20 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

insult thus put upon her, the Argiope began to shake 
her shield, commencing slowly, and waxing faster and 
faster in her movements until the whole web was in 
violent oscillation. 

" See !"I said, " You have wounded the creature's 
vanity, or, at least, you have awakened her fears. Wait 
until she has quieted, then look close!}' and see if either 
her person or work is worthy of so harsh a criticism. 
There, the web is still now — what say you ?" 

"I do declare,*' answered the honest maiden, "it 
isn't so ugly after all, and the net is really a work of art. 
Certainly, I should know better than to speak lightly of 
any of Nature's children ; but then, you know, spiders 
do seem an exception. Everybody fears and dislikes 
them." 

"Yes, you doubtless speak for your race. There is 
perhaps no creature with which man is intimately asso- 
ciated that has come in for a larger share of aversion 
than our humble friend Arachne. Like most human 
prejudices, this is an undeserved and unreasonable feel- 
ing. The spider is a true philanthropist. She is, with- 
out reservation, a friend to our race, destroying noxious 
insects b}^ myriads, and making in return no impost or 
levy upon om orchards, vineyards, cupboards or cellars. 
She is not the only example of unrewarded merit — of 
an ill name earned by a supposed ugly visage ; in 
short, of a prophet without honor in his own country. 
Nor are spiders all so very ugly, as you have con- 
fessed. The fact is they have been deteriorated by too 
close contact with man. The house and cellar spi- 




FIG. 3. — COCOOX OF ARGIOPE AURANTIA. 



22 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

ders, the occupants of our own homes, with which 
we oftenest meet, are precisely the ones least at- 
tractive to our eyes. If you will take the pains to 
search the flowers and shrubs, forests and ferns, you 
.shall find that there are spiders with as fair an exterior, 
in point of color, at least, as more favorite animals. 
Even birds, be it remembered, have their buzzards and 
vultures ; and at all events, as long as ladies will insist 
upon shuddering at sight of the most beautiful animal 
in creation — the serpent — we may feel justified in disre- 
garding their prejudice against poor Arachne. How- 
ever, when you know her better, I am sure you will 
like her more." 

"Mr. Mayfield," cried Abby, '■■ I must protest now ! 
Surely you are not in earnest when you call the serpent 
beautiful ? I might come over to your opinion as to 
spiders and insects, but — snakes ! Ugh !" 

"What is this ?" I asked, touching a spiral bracelet 
upon her wrist. " A mimic silver serpent ! And this ?" 
I added, lifting the links of a gold watch-chain, coiled 
at her waistband. "And this?" pointing to coils of 
brown hair upon the back of her head. " Here is your 
own witness that serpentine forms, at least, are not 
lacking in beauty: Ladies do not decorate their persons 
with ugly things. ' ' 

The play of mind upon Abby's face was a pleasant 
study as she followed these sentiments, evidently quite 
new and startling. The mantling cheeks and kindled 
brown eyes betrayed the mixed nature of her feelings — 
the pleased surprise of novel thought ; the confusion 




'77777, 



f~^7 | \ Y^^^ 

1/2 



KIO. 4. — A BROOJD OF SPIDEULINGS OX THEIR FIRST OUTING. 

23 



24 TENANTS OF AN OLD* FARM. 

of a mind detecting itself in error — doubt and keen in- 
quiry, as though the latent sophistry of my remarks 
were suspected but not seen. I followed up my advan- 
tage. 

" Cast your eye along this little stream as it skirts 
yonder hill-side and pursues its winding course across 
the meadow. Has it not taken upon itself the external 
and formal limitations of your ' ugly snake '? If a poet 
were to speak of it as 'crawling,' or of its ' serpentine 
way,' would he not be borrowing terms from the snake's 
natural action to express his idea of beautiful form and 
motion ? The progress of a serpent over the ground or 
through the water is the very ideal of free, graceful 
movement. Then, as to its anatomy — but, come, I 
must not be too fierce an iconoclast, or I shall cause 
a reaction in your thoughts against my animal friends, 
and quite spoil any good effect that I may have wrought 
in their behalf. This is your Saturday holiday ; can 
you join me for one hour in a morning stroll along the 
run ? . I promise you some new and I hope agreeable 
acquaintances." 




FIG. 5. — SPIDERS AT CAPE MAT. 



25 



CHAPTER III. 

THE TENANTS PREPARING FOR WINTER. 

" Stop ! Look into this clump of grasses and tell me 
what you see." 

'•I see nothing of special interest," said the school- 
mistress. " The bearded heads of the grass have been 
twisted together by some passing animal, I suppose, 
but that is all. Ah, no ! I see now. Here is a beautiful 
little pear-shaped nest hung among the foliage. I have 
seen similar ones in New England, though I am sure I 
cannot guess what it is unless it be the cocoon of a cater- 
pillar." 

" No, it is the egg-sac, or, as it is technically called 
(although somewhat- loosely), the 'cocoon' of our 
Argiope. It has evidently just been made ; we shall 
find the mother near by. Ah, here she is ! Alarmed by 
our approach she has hidden among these leaves. Ob- 
serve how the abdomen has shrunken as compared with 
the specimen we first saw, who was distended with 
eggs, which, by-and-b}', she will dispose of in a like 
cocoon. Excuse me a moment ; I must capture this 
little mother before telling more of her story." 

Taking a paper box from my satchel I opened it, 
placed the two parts on opposite sides of the spider, 
gently approximated them until the body was insida 
26 



THE TENANTS PREPARING FOR WINTER. 27 

lightly pressed the struggling legs until the}- too were 
pulled within, then closed the box and put it in my 
pocket (Fig. 6. ) 




FIG. b. — " COLLECTING A SPECIMEN. 



''Isn't that cruel?" abruptly asked my companion, 
who had watched the process of "collecting a speci- 
men " with curious eye. 

"Cruel? ]S"o. I should be sorry to give needless 
pain to any creature ; nor do I feel entitled to use my 
lordship over the life of the humblest insect except for a 
sufficient and benevolent end. As a priest in the temple 
of Xature I may dedicate this victim to Science. I shall 
see that she has a painless death. Moreover, her days 
are already numbered by the irrevocable decree of 
Xature ; after the spinning of a cocoon the mother- 
spider hangs upon it or near it for a few days, and then 
dies." 

" I have noticed," remarked Abby, plainly not quite 
satisfied that 1'had made out a good case, but willing to 



THE TENANTS PREPARING FOR WINTER. 29 

change the subject, " that spiders are nearly always 
found alone. Do they never go in pairs or groups ?" 

"Ina few species the male and female dwell together ; 
you will sometimes see broods of younglings massed to- 
gether in little balls, or seated on their webs in little 
clusters (Fig. 4) ; you will even see large colonies of adults 
as on the boat-houses of Atlantic City and Cape May — 
each on an independent web, however (Fig. 5). But as 
a rule Arachne, in her social habits, is the very-opposite 
of the social ants, bees and wasps. She is a solitary 
body, and welcomes all visitors as the famous Buck- 
eye wagoner, Tom Corwin, advised the Mexicans to 
welcome our invading army, ' with bloody hands to hos- 
pitable graves.' Nevertheless the maternal instinct is 
quite as strong within her as in any other animal. 

u Here, now, is our Argiope's cocoon. See what a 

pretty shelter-tent has been made by lashing these 

plants together (Fig. 3). Guy ropes of silk are attached 

to the cocoon at various points over the surface, and at 

the opposite ends fastened to the foliage. Thus the tiny 

basket swings secure amidst the most rigorous winter 

storm. Our mother-spider, indeed, might sing over her 

cradle the famous nursery rhyme : 

" i Rock-a-by, baby, on the tree top, 

When the wind blows the cradle will rock.' 

; ' However, there would be little likelihood inhercp$* > 
of such a melancholy conclusion as the lullaby has : 

" ' When the bough bends the cradle will fall, 
And down comes cradle, baby and all !' 

" You have doubtless heard of Indian wicker-work 



30 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

water-vessels. I have seen a large woven bowl in which 
meats were boiled, the water having been heated by hot 
stones. They were perfectly water-tight. That is an 
admirable example of ingenuity in weaving; but our 
Argiope has approached it. The outside of her cocoon 
is usually tough and glazed, and effectually repels moist- 
ure. I have opened many and never found the slightest 
evidence that rain or snow or §leet had made an entrance. 
It is a strong case of forecast, certainly, although I am 
not prepared to say that the forecast abides in the brain- 
cells of the mother aranean. At all events, mother-love 
has met the difficulties as if they had been antici- 
pated." 

'" Perhaps, " suggested Abby reverently, "we are here 
on the track of an infinite forecast ? How is the in- 
terior of the egg-sac furnished ?" 

" Suppose we look. We may devote this example to 
science and dissect it. As I open it with my knife, thus, 
you observe that the glaze lies upon the surface of a soft, 
yellow, silken plush, the whole forming the outer wall. 
Within that there is a mass of purple silk floss — raw 
silk, you might say — which evidently acts as a blanket- 
ing to the egg mass within. The eggs are yellow globules, 
sometimes several hundred in number, deposited under- 
neath a plate-like cushion, and swathed with a white 
silken sheet. Thus the young spiderlings are snugly 
blanketed and tucked away awaiting their deliverance 
from the nursery at the coming of spring." 

"But does the mother leave the little fellows there 
without any provison for them ?" 



THE TENANTS PREPARING FOR WINTER. 31 

" Well, a .spider, unlike true insects, does not undergo 
transformation from a worm, through the chrysalid to 
the imago. It hatches out like a bird, and has no need 
to have stored within its cell a supply of nutrition as 
with voracious grubs. It can wait until its exbde, when 
it is able to spin its own web and provide for its own 
larder. Therefore, the mother shows a true forecast of 
the situation and wants of her offspring when she fails 
to store food within the cocoon. Besides, there is a 
suspicion — though I am not prepared to affirm it — that 
the little ogres eat each other up, as necessity requires, 
an exigency of spider infancy which is provided for or 
against in the great number of eggs laid and young 
hatched out." 

" Dear me, what a situation that for the baby spider- 
lings ! To be shut within those inexorable walls and 
wait until one's turn comes to be served for dinner 
to one's sister or brother ! It is to be hoped that Nature 
has kindly made the little fellows unconscious of their 
destiny. However, if one half is true that I hear of this 
human brotherhood of ours, it is not so very unlike the 
spider's baby-house. The big brothers eat the little 
ones, and the monopolies swallow all !" 

' ' What ! so young and already a cynic ? But you 
mustn't let your moralizing blind your eyes to the facts 
of life all around you. Look into that bush that you 
are passing. I see there one of my special friends whom 
I want you to know. Do you find her ?" 

"You mean this pretty little cobweb? But it is 
small and delicately wrought, and half hidden among 



32 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 




FIG. 8. — SNARE AND EGG-SACS OF CYCLOSA. 

the leaves. How could you see it from where you stand, 
eight or ten feet distant ?" (Fig. 8.) 

" Nothing marvelous in that. I caught the sheen oi 
the white web in the sunlight which fell upon it just at 
the right angle, and a glance was enough for recogni- 
tion. There is a multitude of spider webs that are re- 
vealed only thus, or ou a dewy morning by the drops oi 
moisture entangled in them. Let me show you how I 




FIG. 9. — cyclosa's cocoons, with scalp age. 



33 



34 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

recognized the species. Observe that a segment of the 
web is quite cut out at the top, through the centre of 
which a thick line is stretched. This peculiarity is 
caused by the little mother (C//clom turbinate?) when 
she begins making her cocoons. She cuts out the spirals, 
as you see, and in the clear space hangs a straw-colored, 
pear-shaped cocoon, no larger than a pea. At first it is 
a clean silken sac, but as the mother preys upon the 
small insects that fall into her snare, instead of casting- 
out the dry shells, as is common, she hangs them upon 
her cocoon, which is soon decorated with gauze wings, 
shining black heads and bodies (Fig. 9) until the origi- 
nal color quite disappears. By-and-by a second cocoon 
is added ; a third and a fourth follow, and I once found 
a string of eight. Each cocoon is treated in the same 
manner, until, like a genuine savage of the genus /tomo, 
the tiny Amazon has decorated her home and her 
babies' homes with the scalps of her victims. Here 
she hangs on the hub of her snare, holding on to 
the lower part of her precious string of beads with a 
little white ribbon woven into the net beneath her. It 
was this ' scalpage' that enabled me to know my small 
acquaintance so readily. ' ' 

Leaving our, aboriginal Cyclosa undisturbed in her 
wigwam to the full enjoyment of her cradles and scalps, 
we resumed our walk. Finding myself presently alone 
I turned and saw Abby intently peering into a pyramid 
of grasses which I had almost trodden under foot. 

tl Here is surely something of value.' 1 she cried. "At 
first I thought it an egg-nest of Orange Argiope, but 




FIG. 10.—EGG-SAC OF THE SILVERY ARGIOPE. 



35 



36 TENANTS OF . I X OLD FARM. 

it is quite different when I look closely. Maybe it is 
the work of a young mother ? Ah ! I see by j T our smile 
that I have blundered." 

"I was thinking of your last remark ; and, after all, 
when I reflect, it is not so unnatural a conclusion. 
There is Cyclosa, who, after having made half a dozen 
cocoons, might be considered an 'experienced' mother. 
But Argiope never makes but one. Her maternal love 
and energy center upon that single work, and then she 
dies. But upon the discovery itself I must congratu- 
late you ; it is a noble find — the cocoon of the Silvery 
Argiope (Argiope argyraspis) — which I have never met 
but once. And now, with a boast of clear-sightedness 
fresh upon my tongue, I have fairly run over this rare 
specimen ! Well, it is not the first time that I have 
had illustration of the old adage : 

" ' A raw recruit, 

Perchance, may shoot 
Great Bonaparte ! ' 

You have proved yourself an apt recruit in the entomo- 
logical field, and have done good service. You have 
shown a true eye also, for this is not the egg-nest of 
Aurantia, but of one of her congeners, the Silvery Ar- 
giope (Fig. 10). Here she lies, or hangs rather, hold- 
ing even in death, to the frail hammock of a few lines 
spun against the dry grasses. She is a beautiful 
creature, covered with a, glossy silver-white fur coat, 
with bands of black and yellow across the abdomen. 
How fortunate ! here is another snare, spun in the 
weeds at the edge of the run !" 



THE TENANTS PREPARING FOR WINTER. 37 




FIG. 11.— SNARE OF ARGIOPK ARGYRASP1S. 

"And here is a third," echoed Abby, "with the 
spider hanging at the centre." 

" Good ! Now we can study the web, which is a 
very pretty object." (Fig. 11.) 

bU It is -quite like the snare of Orange Argiope, I 
think— mine is at least ; but yours, how daintily the 
central part has been decorated ! Why is that?" 



38 



TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 




FIG. 12. — DECORATION OF ARGYRASPIS. 



" I cannot speak with certainty. This snare, as you 
remarked, resembles Aurantias, although the cen- 
tral shield is rarely so prominent, and the ' winding- 
stair ' is less frequent. The decorations of which you 
speak are more generally found on Argyraspis webs. 
They are semi-circular, zigzag ribbons and cords of silk 
spun in pairs or triplets on either side of the hub. Some- 
times they go quite around it (Fig. 12). They cer- 
tainly give the snare a dainty appearance, but I imagine 
they are not for decoration— as the sealpage of Cyclosa 
really seems to be — but to strengthen the snare, and 
perhaps to form a sort of barricade to protect the owner 
from assault of enemies. I must collect this cocoon 
before we go further ; it may be long before I meet 
another specimen. There, dead mother and her future 
progeny are safely boxed, and we may walk on." 



CHAPTER IV. 

WINTER TENANTS OF OUR TREES. 

The stream at this point entered the edge of the wood, 
cutting its way through by a glen or ravine, on one side 
of which the land rose gradually, on the other rather 
abruptly. Both sides were covered with bushes and a 
young growth of trees, whose branches spread above the 
run, forming in summer time a dense shade, within 
which and the shadow of the rocks that jutted into the 
stream grew numbers of tall ferns. 

" On the skirts of this wood," I said, " we should find 
cocoons and crysalids of the Lepidoptera — moths and 
butterflies — in abundance. Let us search these young 
oak trees. I dare say we shall see something interest- 
ing.' - I had already caught a view of several of the 
objects for which we were now looking — the winter 
tenants of our trees — but waited for my companion to 
observe for herself. There is a special pleasure in the 
consciousness of original discovery, and a sense of per- 
sonal proprietorship which adds much to the interest 
with which the mind regards things. One's own .find- 
ings are, therefore, the most fruitful in thought, and the 
best texts for instruction. I had not long to wait ; 

Abby's mind was quite intent upon the search, and soon 

39 



mm 




WINTER TENANTS OF OUR TREES, 41 




V* 



KJ 



FIG.'13&. — LARVA OF POLYPHEMUS MOTH. 



her keen eyes discerned the forms of several cocoons 
pendant among the branches of an oak. 

*'I have them !" she cried. •'Curious things they 
are, to be sure, and a curious story, no doubt, you have 
to tell about them." 

"Curious, certainly, to those who have thought 
little of such things ; and yet it is only a small chap- 
ter of a great book that lies open everywhere — open, 
but unread. Such things as I have to tell are curious 
only because people have not looked into the commonest 
facts around them. This is the cocoon of the Polyphe- 
mus moth (Fig. 13c). You observe how snugly the 
leaves have been tucked around it. Tear them away 
and there appears a yellowish, oval, silken case, inside 
of which the pupa is stowed. The thread of which this 



42 



TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 



cocoon is spun is continu- 
ous, and easily unwound 
like that of the ordinary 
silk moth, Bombyx mori. It 
has a rich gloss, and high 
hopes have been entertained 
that it could find extensive 
use in commerce. A New 
England gentleman suc- 
ceeded in rearing the in- 
sects in large numbers, so 
as to obtain wagon loads of 
cocoons. His ' plant ' pre- 
sented a truly animated ap- 
pearance, with not less than 
a million worms feeding in 
the open air on bushes cov- 
ered with a net." 

" A sight more attractive to the entomologist, or 
silk-grower, I should think, than to the general public," 
remarked Abby. 

" Very likely, but I have observed that a dollar dis- 
cerned in the distance has a wonderful effect in bright- 
ening even a vista of caterpillars. Prospect of cash 
converts unreasonable sensibilities quite as quickly as a 
naturalist's enthusiasm. However, the general public 
has a deep interest in everything relating to silk culture, 
for although it may be a c disgusting ' fact to some 
minds, yet it is a fact that we owe our most beautiful 
habiliments to the labor, pains, and eventually the 




FIG 13 C. — COCOON OF POLY- 
PHEMUS MOTH. 



WINTER TENANTS OF OUR TREES. 43 

sacrificed life of the despised silk-worm. The larva of 
our Polyphemus moth is thick, fleshy, striped obliquely 
with white ou the sides, with angulated segments or 
'joints.' on which are tubercles surmounted by a few 
soft hairs. They are hatched about the close of June 
from eggs laid singly by the mother moth on the under 
sides of leaves. Ten or twelve days intervene between 
the deposit of the eggs and the hatching of the larva. 

" Then begins the feeding, which is not a simple eat- 
ing, but a storing of food that must sustain nature 
during the long winter sleep, aud in some cases, as with 
Cecropia, for example, during the life of the perfect in- 
sect when it has transformed. Xot only that, but it 
must take in enough to supply the curious natural 
workshop within it with the crude material from which 
comes the silken fibre that turnishes its winter home. 
Those are busy da} r s, therefore, for the young worm 
during the long summer. 

" But it has periods of rest from its voracious eating. 
Late in the afternoon of a summer da}', if you would 
peep among the leafy barricades of these oak-boughs, 
you might see our worm undergoing the tedious process 
of shedding its own clothes, or moulting. As the grub 
grows, the outer skin tightens and hardens ; since it 
cannot yield," and as the creature must grow while it 
eats, the only thing to be done is to get rid of the im- 
pediment. Therefore Dame Nature, like a careful 
nurse, strips the young Polyphemus and puts it aside 
to rest awhile. 

" Something analogous occurs to the human intellect 



44 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

from time to time, although ' Bourbons ' and c old 
fogies' are said to be exempt from the process of 
moulting. On the other hand, there are some men who 
have such marvelous facility at making an intellectual 
moult, that one hardly knows where to lind them on 
great questions. 

"Our Polyphemus grub is content with five moults, 
ten days intervening between the first four, and twenty 
between the last two. During the intervals it resumes 
the serious duty of life — eating. 1 ' 

" How many leaves can one larva eat? " asked Abby. 
"It seems to me you must exaggerate its voracity, or 
its ravages would be more noticeable. Surely, the little 
creature within this case couldn't have been very for- 
midable as a gourmand." 

"Have you ever observed one at its meals? Xo ? 
Well, then, you have something yet to learn as to the 
proportions of a healthy appetite. The hungry ' small 
boy ' is hardly to be named for gastronomic practice 
beside -our Polyphemus. Mr. Trouvelot, a Massachu- 
setts observer, has determined that a grub fifty-six 
days old has attained 4140 times its original weight, a 
progress in avoirdupois which implies a corresponding 
vigor in tablerfare. Or, to put it in another way, a 
full-grown larva has eonsumed not less than one hun- 
dred and twenty oak-leaves, weighing three-fourths of 
a pound, besides the water which it has drunk. Thus 
the food which it has taken in fifty-six days equals in 
weight eiyhtysix thousand times the primitive weight of 
the worm ! You may imagine the destruction of leaves 



WINTER TENANTS OF OUR TREES. 45 




FIG. 14. — DAME NATURE STRIPS YOUNG POLYPHEMUS 
FOR REST. 

which this single species of insect could make if only a 
hundredth part of the eggs came to maturity. A few 
years would suffice for the propagation of a number 
large enough to devour all the leaves of our forests.' 1 

"But you have not told me yet how the caterpillar 
eats itself within this cocoon. I feel very much as the 
somewhat under-wise and stuttering King of England, 
George II., is said to have felt when he first saw an 
apple-dumpling. u P-p-pray, wh-wh-where, where got 
the apple in ?' How got the pupa inside this case ?" 



4G 



TAWAS'JS OF AS OLD FARM 



"You understand, of course," I replied, "that this 
hard and apparently lifeless object (Fig. 15) which we 
call a pupa did nothing to inclose itself. The larva 
'got' itself 'in,' and then be- 
came a pupa. A few clays be- 
fore it had been seized by a 
strange restlessness ; it wandered 
about uneasily ; it refused to eat. 
What vision of its coming change 
had Nature given the worm ? I 
believe human beings also are 
sometimes impressed in some 
such way before great crises. I 
have nryself experienced, on the 
approach of such occasions, those 
indefinable, restless sensations 
which the moth larva seems to 
exhibit. Its first step toward 
forming a cocoon, after a site had 
been chosen, was to wrap the stem, as you see here, 
and lash it to the twig above. Then, sinking to this 
point, it gradually drew around it the adjacent leaves, 
making a tiny arbor or cell, which you observe is the 
framework of the cocoon. Within this it began to spin, 
drawing its silken threads from point to point as it 
moved around the cell. Layer succeeded layer, each 
overlapping its predecessor, until the grub was quite 
shut in, and. finally, this silken case was completed. It 
then ceased work, and, yielding to the strange drowsy 
spell which Nature casts upon its kind, it fell into this 




FIG. 15. — PUPA OF 
POLYPHEMUS. 



WINTER TENANTS OF OUR TREES. 41 

pupal state, wherein it will remain until late in May or 
early June next, when it will emerge as a perfect 
insect." 

" Well, well," exclaimed Ahby ; " it is an 'oft told 
tale, 7 but it seems more wonderful to me to-day than 
ever before. Of course it is a ridiculous fancy ; but 
do you know I can't help wondering if the moth knows 
itself when it emerges ! I mean, does it have any 
recollection of its larval and pupal estate ?" What do 
you think ? It's a foolish notion, I daresay !" 

" Not at all ; others have had the same thought. 
But who can say ? Perhaps when we have passed 
through some such transformation, we may have more 
light on this and other of Nature's mysteries ; but until 
then we must be content to guess at the possible expe- 
rience of a moth. All we can say is that the mother 
insect, if possible, comes to the tree, oak or maple, on 
which it was reared as a larva, to deposit her eggs, 
Possibly the ghost of a faint impression of the acrid 
flavor of oak-leaf may haunt the pairs of nervous 
ganglia that serve for brains in a Polyphemus, and so 
may urge the creature to haunt its larval resorts. One 
would think, however, that all sense of its old person- 
ality had been buried and left in this pupal sarcopha- 
gus. But then, again, who knows ? We might as well 
call the mental processes of both grub and imago 
instinct, and pass on." 

"I have another question," said the schoohna'am. 
"You see I am moved by my ancestral traditions, if 
the moth is not, and ask questions like a genuine 



WINTER TENANTS OF OUR TREES. 49 

Yankee. Where are the spinning organs of the larva ? 
The spider has hers, I know, at the apex of the 
abdomen, in several little mammals or spinnerets. 
How is it with the caterpillar?" 

"The position of the spinning organs is precisely 
reversed in the silk-worm.. The silk glands consist of 
two long, flexuous, thick-walled sacs situated on the 
sides of the body, and opening by a common orifice on 
the under-lip, or labium, usually at the end of a short 
tubular protuberance. They are most developed just 
when they are most needed — when the larva approaches 
the pupa state, xlnd now, suppose we dismiss our 
Polyphemus and turn to others quite as " 

" There, excuse me ; 3-011 have reminded me of some- 
thing I wanted to ask. Why is this moth called ' Poly- 
phemus ?' Is it such a horrible one-eyed ogre as the 
giant who handled so roughly the great Ulysses and his 
companions ?" 

"I am afraid that I cannot fully satisf}^ you until we 
return to the house and show you a figure of the insect 
— possibly not then, for scientific names are not always 
readily accounted for. But we shall have better oppor- 
tunity by-and-b}-, as we walk homeward, to talk over 
this matter of scientific names. Meanwhile, let us ex- 
amine these elder-bushes along the fence-side. I hope 
to find an old friend — ah, there you have it, I see. It 
is the Cecropia moth — Samia cecropia. It has nearly 
the same habits as the Polyphemus ; indeed, the story 
of that insect's life will stand, with a few variations, 
for all. Elder, willow and maple are the favorite 



50 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

food-trees of Cecropia — in our neighborhood, at least. 
There is a clump of young spicewood trees, and yonder 
are some sassafras saplings. Let us examine them. 
What have you found ?" 

" Here is a cluster of seven or eight hanging neal 
together ! They are long, tapering cocoons, prettily 
rolled in leaves and bound to the twigs by beautifully 
wrapped silk. See, in this one the coil extends several 
inches up the stem and around the twig. What is the 
use of all this precaution ? Wouldn't the insects come 
out on the ground quite as well '? Indeed, I should 
think that it would be colder up there exposed to wind, 
rain, hail, snow, and frost, than down among the dry 
grass and leaves." 

" The question of temperature hasn't so much to do 
with the matter, I imagine ; the pupae stand an intense 
degree of cold, even those of the butterflies (Fig. 17) 
which are usually naked. These have 
been kept in an ice-house for two 
years., and when removed' to a warm 
place came out all right. Cold and 
damp weather retards the process of 
transformation ; but the cocoons do 
well enough on the ground where they 
fall, as many do ; although, on the 
whole, I think they are better on the FIG i7._ PU pa of 
branches, certainly thev are safe there ™™ RFLY VA " 

J " NESS A. 

from the trampling feet of cattle/ ' 

However, there are, no doubt, wise reasons for what 
you have aptly styled all this precaution, some of which 




WINTER TENANTS OF OUR TREES. 51 

1 can suggest. For one thing, cocoons temper the 
rapid changes in the atmospheric temperature. A long, 
steadily cold winter seems to be less destructive to the 
enclosed pupse than a very changeable one of a lower 
average temperature. Hence the value, in a changeable 
climate, of such enswathments as help to graduate the 
weather variations. 

Then, again, cocoons are of use in preventing the loss 
of moisture by pupae. For example, the pupa of a Ce- 
cropia or Polyphemus moth exposed to the atmosphere 
without its natural covering will, as a rule, dry up or 
produce an imago which will not have moisture enough 
in its tissues to expand its wings properly. 

Once more, cocoons conceal the inmates from their 
natural enemies. If they be noticed they are seen not 
to be edible, and the tough parchment enswathment 
protects from any but a deliberate and vigorous siege. 
Moreover, the odor of the pupa, by which man}' 
enemies would be attracted to it, is probably largely 
confined within the cocoon by their structure. You 
must take my suggestions with some allowance, how- 
ever. I confess that I am not in a position to be very 
positive upon this interesting query, which involves 
some puzzling and seemingly inconsistent facts. But to 
return to our Cynthia cocoons, let me call 3'our atten- 
tion again to the manner in which the larva has 
wrapped the leaf-stalks entirely around and carried the 
windings clear up to the twig on which the leaves hang. 
One is almost led to think that the worm wrought with 
some knowledge that leaves have the habit of dropping 



52 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

from the trees, and secured itself against any such acci- 
dent by lashing the petiole tightly to the limb." 

"Well — but — surely, you don't thing that the worm 
really did know that f " exclaimed Abb}'. 

As I did not venture upon, an answer, somewhat fear- 
ing the questions that the quick-witted maiden might 
shower upon me, the schoolma'am dropped the matter 
and started another query. . 

"Why should these cocoons be swung aloft in this 
fashion, instead of being tied directly to the limbs ? 
Does the pensile condition give them any special pro- 
tection ?" 

"That is partly, perhaps mainly, due to the peculiar 
character of a sassafras leaf-stalk, which you can 
readily observe. Yet I can suggest one probable 
advantage. There is a cousin-german of these speci- 
mens, Plnlosamia cyntlvia. who usually builds upon the 
ailanthus tree. T have gathered a brood of twenty- 
three cocoons hanging upon a small branch. The 
ailanthus leaf, you know, falls early, and you may 
observe the cocoons (Fig. 18) pendant in clusters from 
the bare boughs of the trees along our city streets. 
I have seen the sparrows pecking at them, and was 
reminded of the days when I tried to gain health and 
muscle by a daily boxing-match with a sand-bag hung 
in the back yard. Of course the bag swung away at 
every blow, only to come back again. I never had any 
damage from the sand-bag, which, I suppose, was the 
main point ; but, on the other hand, the sand-bag 
never got any damage from me, simply because it 




FIG. 18.— CLDSTEK OF CYNTHIA COCOONS. 



m 



54 TENANTS OF AX OLD FARM. 

wouldmt stay to get it. That was precisely the case 
with the ailanthiis cocoons ; they gave way before the 
bills of the mischievous, chattering sparrows, who 
could, therefore, make no impression ou them. 
Those cocoons were even more carefully attached than 
these of the Prometheus, the twigs on which they 
hung being wrapped for ten and twelve inches from the 
stem, which was also carefully bound about with a 
quite decided ribbon of fine yellowish white silk. The 
leaves and leaf-stalk were tightly wrapped to the 
twig, and thus all were carefully suspended aloft, 
where they hung through the entire winter. Xow. I 
do not know from actual observation that the spar- 
rows wished to tear open the cocoon for the sake of the 
contents, but I have thought that, in early spring, at 
least, their motive may have been to get material for 
their nests. " 

"Why should the sparrows wish to obtain the con- 
tents of a cocoon ?" asked Abby. " Could they eat the 
pupa?" 

' ; That they could, for the pupa is little more than a 
mass of vital juices, contained within a not very tough 
crust. I have said that I have no positive evidence to 
convict our English sparrows of preying upon the 
Cecropia pupae, but I cannot say as much for some 
other birds. There is at least one bird, the hairy 
woodpecker [Picas villosus Linn.), from whose beak tln j 
staunch cocoon of the Cecropia offers no protection 
whatever. 

" I have noticed one of these birds, during the early 



WINTER TENANTS OF OUR TREES. 55 




#!*^Ff Ti^M 




FIG. 19. — THE SPARROW'S SPARRING PRACTICE.— p. 52 



months of winter, clinging to a twig, pecking away at 
the parchment-like covering of a cocoon attached 
thereto in a manner that amused me very much, and I 
was hugely -enjoying its (as I supposed) vain attempts 
to penetrate it. But when it hopped to an adjoining 
limb, shook itself and exhibited the well-known natural 



56 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

behavior of a bird that has just banqueted, I began to 
think its powers had been vastly underestimated. By 
the aid of a ladder the cocoon was obtained and found 
not only to have been punctured, but all the soft and 
liquid parts extracted. As there were other cocoons 
attached to the same tree which, upon examination, 
proved to be uninjured, I was led to believe the bird 
had found a weak part in the one which it had pene- 
trated. 

"After a few days another cocoon was found to be 
punctured, this time fairly upon the crown and appar- 
ently in the strongest part. I now saw what had 
before escaped my notice, viz. : that by the situation of 
the first cocoon it was accessible to the bird only from 
below, which accounted for the puncture being near its 
base, close to the twig. A short time afterward, on 
passing another tree, out from among the branches 
flew the little murderer, and, as usual, a pierced cocoon 
Avas found, the puncture yet wet with the juices of the 
pupa, showing that I had surprised the bird while at 
breakfast. 

u In the month of January in the succeeding year, I 
again found the winged destroyers at work, and could 
easily distinguish the dry, rattling sound, the death 
knell of the beautiful moth, the larva of which seems 
to be as destructive to vegetation as the imago is 
innocent. So far as I have been able to observe, the 
birds do not attack these cocoons until winter, when 
other insect food is not so easily obtainable. In fact, 
this seems to be a source of subsistence stored up for this 



WINTER TENANTS OF OUR TREES. 57 

season of the year, always fresh, and, to all appear- 
ances, at all times available."* 

"But, even if we should acquit the sparrows of mur- 
derous intent in their assaults upon cocoons, we may 
fairly conjecture that they are influenced by desire to 
gather material for nest-building. 

"I have specimens of the nests of a Yireo taken in 
Fairmount Park,, which are largely constructed of 
silk stolen from cocoons and webs' of spiders. One 
may imagine the vigorous but unavailing protests of 
the despoiled spinster against the rape of her fair silken 
yarns, but what could she do against the thieving 
birds ? Her stationary domicile and cocoon were far 
more exposed to the winged robbers than the oscillating 
house of the moth, pendant from the trees. 

" But we have quite spent our hour afield. We will 
walk homeward through the ravine, and collect such 
specimens as we ma}* on the way. I dare say we shall 
find enough material to supply a theme of conversation 
for a pleasant evening at home." 

" You promised to initiate me into the mysteries of 
scientific names when we started homeward," said 
Abby ; " cannot your fulfill your promise now ?" 

"There is not much mystery in the matter." I 
replied, " and I shall have little difficulty, I think, in 

[* Among the many letters called out by the original chapters of "The 
Tenants, ,1 as published in The Continent, was one from Mr. F. M. 
Webster, Assistant Entomologist of the State of Illinois, who forwarded 
me the above facts concerning the hairy woodpecker, as observed by 
him, and printed in the American Naturalist. They are confirmatory 
of my allusion to the sparrows, and I here take the liberty of adding 
them to the Tenant's Experience.] 

4 



58 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

introducing so apt a candidate as yourself. The fact is, 
objects in natural history are named precisely on the 
same principle that prevails in the bestowment of in- 
dividual names among men. Aj 1 animal or plant has 
a generic name that corresponds with the gens, sir, or 
family cognomen of a man, and a, specific name that 
corresponds with his baptismal, Christian, or individual 
name. There is this difference, that the order of the 
names is reversed, the gens name of an animal being 
placed first instead of last. However, there are some 
nations, as the Hungarians and, I believe, also the 
Chinese, who follow the very order that naturalists 
have established ; and in our directories, ledgers and 
other lists of names we Americans do the same. Thus 
you might see your own gens or family name, Bradford, 
preceding your individual name Abby, and so on 
through all your clan. If you were to write such a 
list and a list of spiders and insects in opposite columns 
yOu would at once see the analogy, thus : 

" Bradford, Abby, Argiope aurantia, 

Bradford, George>, Argiope argyraspis, 

Bradford, Mary, Bombyx mori, 

Bradford, John, Tclea polyphemm. 

," That is a simple enough arrangement, and natur- 
alists invariably adhere to the rule to give only the 
two necessary names to one animal. Certainly, some 
of their titles are sufficiently formidable (chiefly be- 
cause they are new to us), but you will now never see 
any multiplication of scientific names upon one poor 
little creature such as many human babies are com- 




am- ^* *< - 




?IG. 20. — THE KAPE OF THE TARNS.— ». 57. 



60 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

pelled to receive : Angelina Seraphima Celestiana Jane- 
Eliza Brown ! In sooth, scientific nomenclature is not 
the greatest offender in the matter of long and sound- 
ing titles." 

"Where do the naturalists get their names ?" asked 
Abby, after heartily enjoying my sally, which her ex- 
perience with the names of her school-children enabled 
her to fully appreciate. 

"The rule is to derive the generic name from the 
Greek, and the specific name from the Latin, or to con- 
vert the former into a Greek form and Latinize the 
latter. It is further the custom, which is not, how- 
ever, invariable, to construct the names from some 
marked characteristic of the animal. Take, for ex- 
ample, our spider friend Argiope aurantia. The generic 
name is taken from mythology, after a fancy that long 
prevailed among naturalists, and which is especially 
marked in the science of astronomy, as you will see 
by recalling the names of the planets. Argiope 
(Afjyio-'r/) was a Greek nymph, and the fancy of the 
araneologist who created the genus led him to give her 
name to it. The specific name aurantia was given by 
M. Lucas to this species because of the bright orange 
spots on the back of the abdomen, and aurantia is the 
Latin word that describes this fact. In the same way 
the other beautiful species was named Argiope. of 
course, because she belongs to the same gens, and 
argyraspis ( Latin for silvery^) because of her silvery 
abdomen. 

" Take the next example on our list ; the scientific 



WINTER TENANTS OF OUR TREES. 61 

name of the silkworn is Bombyx mori. The generic 
title is simply the Greek name for that insect (fio/ufivi, 
bombyx), which very properly is given to the gens 
of which it is the best known, member. In other 
words, like distinguished sovereigns and citizens it es- 
tablished a ' house ' bearing its own name. The 
specific name mori is the genitive case of the Latin 
word morum, a mulberry, and those who have ever fed 
silkworms can see the reason for such a title for that 
individual member of the ' house ' of Bombyx. 

"Now as to polyphemus; its specific name was 
probably given, as you guessed at first, because, at the 
time of its discovery, it was supposed to be the giant 
among the moths ; or, perhaps, because of the large 
eye which marks each wing of the perfect insect. 
Specific names are often given in honor of naturalists 
or others whom the naturalist wishes to compliment. 
For instance, I might be pleased to name some spider 
or bug after my friend Bradford, in which case I should 
Latinize the termination, and call it BradfordAi, or if 
after Miss Abby herself, Bradfordice, perhaps, which is 
the female termination of the Latinized Bradford ins. 
Such are the general rules governing scientific nomencla- 
ture. There are exceptions and violations'. But here 
we are at home !" 

'' Thanks !" said the schoolma'am. " I see now what 
I never knew before, that in science, at least, there in 
much in a name." 



CHAPTER V. 

MOTHS AT THE FIRESIDE. 

" There is a peculiar pleasure in the hearth when 
the first autumnal frosts call for fires. That is, if one 
has an open grate or an old-fashioned fireplace. Modern 
stoves and furnaces have burned all the poetry out of 
the songs and traditions of the ' fireside.' 

u It requires a more vivid imagination than ordinary 
mortals are blessed with to throw the charm of ' ingle- 
side,' and all that, around a hole in the wall covered 
by an iron filagree gate through whose perforations a 
hot air-blast is puffing. As to stoves, if we except the 
good old 'Franklin,' and all of that ilk, there is 
nothing. to be said about or for them save that they do 
'keep us warm.' " 

So the Mistress discoursed as Dan piled up the hick- 
ory-wood upon the great back-log already smoldering 
upon the sitting-room hearth. In the general repairs 
which the old farmhouse had undergone this room was 
preserved from the intrusion of a coal-grate, and its cav- 
ernous depth dedicated to the ancient Lar of the and- 
iron and crane. Behold us, then, the entire Highwood 
family, seated before the first fire of the season, rejoicing 

in its genial light and warmth. The specimens gathered 
63 







FIG. 21. — COCOON OF CECROPIA MOTH. 



oi 



U TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

in the morning walk are laid upon the table, together 
with divers books of reference. The Mistress, the 
schoolraa'am and myself have seats at the table ; Hugh 
Bond, the farmer, sits at the chimney side ; at his feet 
sits his youngest boy, Harry, and opposite him are his 
son Joe, a stout lad of seventeen, and his daughter 
Jenny, a young woman of nineteen, who is established 
at High wood as one of our handmaids. Old Dan, some- 
what more modestly, sits on a cricket at the side of the 
door that opens into the kitchen. 

In the days of Farmer Townes the room in which 
we sit was the " living-room " of the family, the 
kitchen serving for the dining-room as well.. We have 
made the best of the builder's plans, and converted it 
into a dining and sitting-room jointly and severally. A 
snug and comfortable place it is, too, with its great 
wood fire roaring in the chimney ! 

We are a democratic company, observe, and why 
not ? for we are gathered for the study of natural sci- 
ence, and science knows no' caste ; besides it is the 
good wife's doing, and came about in this wise : 

The advent of the master and schoolma'am, as they 
entered the gate after their morning walk, with hands 
full of divers specimens and others fluttering from the 
master's hatband, had created quite a sensation at 
Highwood. It was midday, the dinner-hour on an 
American farm, a custom come of descent doubtless 
from the European "dejeuner. 7 ' with which meal, at 
least, both in character and time, as now served upon 
the Continent, it precisely corresponds. The entire 



MOTHS AT THE FIRESIDE. 65 

household was therefore on the premises, and were all 
on the alert to know what such strange procedure 
might portend. Dan shook his head significantly, and 
evidently considered it a natural outcropping of my 
malady. Sarah, the cook, thought that " yarbs " for 
medicine might be at the bottom of the business, until 
Hugh explained that something more than plants had 
been carried home. He had a faint glimmer of the 
facts, for some one had told him that his ' : boss used to 
be a great bug-hunter." Joe, Jenny and their little 
brother Harry, a bright twelve-year-old boy, with that 
strong sympathy with nature which marks young 
people, were full of curiosity which (with Harry espe- 
cially) overflowed in a very freshet of questions. The 
Mistress had noted all these things as she moved back 
and forth, and at her request an invitation was carried 
to the whole domestic company to join the evening con- 
versation. All accepted heartily except Sarah, a middle- 
aged white woman, childless and a "grass-widow," 
who declared that she "didn't see no use iu any sich 
nonsense." Nevertheless, as she sat in the shadows 
beside the kitchen-stove she cast many surreptitious 
looks through the open door upon the group at the 
table, and kept a wide-open ear turned in the same 
direction. 

"Suppose you begin the conversation," said Abby, 
" by telling us the use of these cocoons. What ends do 
they serve in nature ? I was much interested in your 
statements this morning, and would like our circle to 
have the benefit of some of them at least." 



66 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

" Very good. I will answer hy first asking Bond a 
question : What is the use of the straw coverings 
which you were wrapping around the rose-bushes this 
morning ?" 

" Why, sir," replied Hugh, smiling at such an 
apparently simple question, u that's plain enough. It 
saves the bushes from the frost." 

"But surely the frost gets through the straAV at 
last, and the bushes must be quite as cold during 
winter as the outside atmosphere ?" 

"Y-a-a-s," Hugh returned; "but then the straw 
kind o' tempers it, too. You see, the cold works in 
gradual like, and allows the plant to git used to it. 
Besides that, I've been told that the bushes 'sweat' 
jist like animals, and the heavy straw swathing keeps 
in that nateral warmth. Still, I don't know 'bout that. 
I reckon the rabbits has somethin' to do with the busi- 
ness, too ; leastways, I take pretty good care to wrap 
the lower parts a leetle closter. But, to tell the truth, 
sir, I never thought much about the why and wherefore. 
I puts a coat on the tender bushes pretty much as I 
puts one on myself." 

14 Well, Hugh, you have given a good enough starting 
^oint for my answer. The cocoons, like the straw 
tvraps, temper the rapid changes in the atmosphere. 
A long, steady winter seems to be less destructive, to 
the inclosed pupa than a very changeable one of a higher 
average temperature. Hence the value, in a change- 
able climate, of such wraps as help to graduate the 
weather variations. Here now is this Cecropia cocoon. 




■ - 

- 



FIG. 22,— CECROPIA COCOOX PARTLY DISSECTED, 



<57 



68 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

(Fig. 21). I strip aside the leafy covering, and expose 
a stiff, parchment-like case, as waterproof as a rubber- 
coat. Inside, you see an egg-shaped object, completely 
covered with a thick blanketing of flossy silk. (Fig. 22). 
The silk overlays a second parchment case, which I 
cut away, and come to the baby moth, tucked in its. 
cradle, sound asleep. This is what we call the pupa. 
There it is V] 

The whole party had eagerly watched the progress of 
the scissors as I dissected the cocoon, and the young- 
people had become so much interested that they left 
their seats at the fireside, and approached the table. 

" Dear me !" said the Mistress, laughing, k ' that quite 
equals the care which German mothers give their 
babies in winter. I have seen them lying upon a 
leather bed, and another bed of eider down or feathers 
laid upon them as a covering. Their rosy little fat faces 
peeped out of their knit woolen caps, and showed pink 
and chubby like a premium peach in a bunch of cotton. " 

" L wonder," said Abby, "if the Indian mothers 
didn't get their style of wrapping up their papooses 
from the Cecropia moth ?" 

" Who knows '? Dame Nature has given many a good 
hint to men, and the squaws might have gone further 
and fared worse. But to proceed with our lesson : here 
is one of Harry's contributions. He dug it out of the 
potato-field for me this afternoon. I didn't give him 
the name of the baby insect, or I fear that he would not 
have been so friendly toward the ' poor wee thing, ' for 
it is an old acquaintance — ' the potato-worm.' " 



MOTHS AT THE FIRESIDE. 



m 




FIG. 23.— THE POTATO-WORM LARVA. 



" Hi !" cried Dan, sitting bolt upright on his cricket, 
"doan' mean ter say, Mars Mayfiel', dat daVs de nas'y 
big green catumpill'r 't eats de tater wines ? 'Taint 
nothin' like it, shore !" 

"Yes, Dan, this is the potato-worm, the tomato- 
worm, or the tobacco-worm, just as you choose to call 
it. You all- know it — a large green caterpillar, with a 
kind of thorn on the tail, and oblique, whitish stripes on 
the side of the body. It grows to the thickness of the 
fore-finger, and the length of three inches or more 
(Fig. 23). ' It comes to its full size from the middle of 
August to the first of September, then crawds down the 
stem of the plant, and buries itself in the ground. 



70 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

There, in a few days, it throws off its caterpillar skin, 
and becomes this bright brown crysalis." (Fig. 24). 

"If you please, Mars Maynel'," interrupted Dan, 
44 whar's de 'coon ? Dat's no 'coon at all ; I 'speck 




FIG. 34. — PUPA OF POTATO-MOTH. 

Harry's done shucked it, and I'd like powerful well to 
know all 'bout dat tater-worm." 

"I didn't neither!" answered Harry, warmly. 
" That's all there was of it ; Mr. Mayfield stood by 
while I dug, and knows it's so." 

"Quite true, Harry; but, Dan, can you tell why 
Bond don't wrap up the roots of his bushes in straw, as 
well as the branches ?" 

" Why, Mars Mayfiel', 'V course de ground keeps 
de roots warm widout de straw." 

"Precisely ; and so it is with the crysalis. As the 
larva goes into the ground, to 'transform,' as we say, 
instead of hanging on the tree like this Cecropia, it has 
less need of the protection of a cocoon. Although we 
shall see by-and-by, that crysalids can get on very well, 
even when hanging naked on the trees. 

"But look at this," said Abby, pointing to the long, 
stem-like appendage at one end of the crysalis. " Your 
crysalis must have been suspended to the trees at some 



MOTHS AT THE FIRESIDE. 71 

time, for here is the very .stem by which it hung, just 
like those of the Polyphemus and Cynthia moths." 
Thereupon she handed the object to the mistress, who 
examined it carefully. 

"Why, father," she remarked, U I fear that Abby 
has caught you napping this time." 

" That is right," I answered. " I am glad that your 
minds are alert and not disposed to take too much 
without question. Let the crysalis pass around the 
circle, and then I will show you the imago or perfect 
insect. Here is a figure of our potato-worm full fledged. 
A fine large moth it is, you see. It has dropped its 
humble name now and is known as Pldegethoatius 
quinque-maculata, or, popularly, the Five-spotted 
Sphinx.'' (Fig. 25.) 

"Well, well," said the Mistress, a little impatiently. 
"What has that to do with this 'stem' that we were 
talking about ?" 

"Patience, my dear, I am coming to that; but I 
want 3 r ou, first, to see the insect's tongue. Come, Abby, 
you have the first look ; do you see the tongue ?" 

" Not I ! and it's not to be seen, for the back of the 
moth is toward us." 

"■ Then let the others try." 

All studied the picture and came to the same conclu- 
sion — no tongue was to be seen. 

" I must put spectacles on your eyes, I find. You see 
this long,' delicate, curled organ rising out of the head 
and extended over the flower into which it is about to 
be thrust ?— this is the insect's tongue." 



MOTHS AT THE FIRESlVfi. 73 

" That the tongue?" 

"The tongue?" 

"The tongue !" 

So the query and exclamation ran from one to an- 
other, or, rather, rose from all in chorus. 

" Yes," I answered, " that is the tongue, and Madam 
Sphinx certainly can't complain of its brevity. Here, 
now, is where your 'stem'' comes in. The long, slen- 
der object which you mistook for the cord by which a 
cocoon hangs is a tongue-case. It is bent over, as you 
see, from the head so as to touch the breast only at the 
end, causing the crysalis somewhat to resemble a 
pitcher." 

My discourse was here interrupted by an unctuous 
roll of laughter proceeding from the kitchen door, " Ho, 
ho, ho!" 

All eyes were turned upon Dan. who was rocking 
back and forth upon his stool, in an ecstacy of merri- 
ment. Soon the entire group was laughing in pure 
sympathy, for no one had suspected the cause of Dan's 
mirth. 

" Beg pardon, Mars MaytieP," he said, at length. "I 
done forgot my manners, dat's a fac' ; but it come over 
me so sudden ! I*se jes' thinkin' dat ef all de long- 
tongued folkses could git dat kin' uv a spectakle-case 
to stow away dar tongues in, 't would be mighty 
handy round our kitchen o' nights ! Dar's Sarey Ann, 
now, -" 

Another outbreak of hearty laughter interrupted 

Dan's remarks, the point of which every one appre- 

5 



74 TENANTS OF AX OLD FARM. 

ciated ; for, with all her excellencies, our cook carried 
a sharp tongue, and was prone to u.se it freely, as Dan 
had more than once complained, upon " de kitchen 
folks." 

"Dan Davis," cried a wrathful voice from out the 
shadows of the kitchen, " you'd better curl up a rod or 
two of your own tongue, I reckon." 

Dan hitched his cricket around, half rose, and looked 
into the kitchen. " Tore goodness sake, Sarey Ann, I 
nebber s*posed you's a lestenin' to our nonsenses 'bout 
the bugs. Hi den ! You've been keepin' the leP year 
open all de time ?" 

"Sit down, Dan," I said. "I'll intercede for you 
with Sarah, although you certainly deserve a little 
tongue -lashing this time. Let us get back to our 
crysalis. It remains in the ground through the winter, 
below the reach of frost, and in the following spring the 
crysalis-skin bursts open, the large moth crawls out of 
it, comes to the surface of the ground, and, mounting 
upon some neighboring plant, waits until the approach 
of evening invites it to expand its untried wings and 
tiy in search of food, which it sucks from the flowers by 
means of its tongue. The tongue can be unrolled to 
the length of five or six inches, but, when not in use, is 
coiled like a watch-spring, and is almost entirely con- 
cealed between two large and thick feelers, under the 
head. The moth measures across the wings about five 
inches ; is of a gray color, variegated with blackish 
lines and bands, and on each side of the body there are 
five round, or rectangular, orange-colored spots en 



MOTHS AT THE FIRESIDE. 75 

circled with black. These are the markings that have 
given it the name of the Five-spotted Sphinx. ' ' 

"Why should it be called a sphinx at all?" asked 
Abby. 

" The larva, when disturbed, has the habit of raising 
its head aloft and curving several of the first segments 
of the body (see Fig. 23). The fancied resemblance of 
this attitude to the Egyptian Sphinx has suggested its 
scientific Family name, the Sphingida?."' 

" That is very good," said the Mistress, "very good, 
indeed, and I am sure that it will help me to remember 
what you have said. Is that what has been called a 
scientific use of the imagination ? If so, I suppose we 
might complete the fancy, and think of the famous 
'Riddle of the Sphinx, 1 as the continually repeated 
question of the farmers, ' What be them worms made 
for, anyhow ?' " 

" Are not these large moths very rare insects ?" asked 
Abby. " I don't remember ever to have seen one." 

" On the contrary, they are quite common," I replied. 
" You will find them even within the city limits, where 
they feed on the Jimson (Jame.stown) weed, which 
grows abundantly on vacant lots. But they are night- 
feeders, keeping close under the cover of the leaves and 
branches during the day, and only flying abroad after 
nightfall. For this reason we rarely see them. You 
have seen the small species of moths fluttering around 
the lights on a summer evening, but the large species 
do not often venture through the windows. The fact 
is-, there is a night- world of all sorts of creatures living 







V T :>.#<;;; 



3SJ^i 



76 



MOTHS AT THE FIRESIDE. 77 

close around us, little known by most men, and, indeed, 
their presence little suspected/' 

"It's a mighty good thing,'' remarked Dan. ' ; dat 
dem mo'hvs doan fly inter de winders often." He 
placed his elbows on his knees, leaned forward, rested 
his chin upon his fists, shook his head oracularly, and 
assumed a very solemn air. Wi Xo, it ain't bes", noways, 
to have too much to do wid dem critters. Dar was my 
brudder Wash, 'fore I cum up from ole Marxian' ; de 
berry week 'fore he died one ob dese big mo'hvs flew 
inter de winder, flickered aroun' de candle, and 'fore we 
know'd brushed it right out. Dar we wur, all in the 
dark ; an' I tell you, a fearder set there never was. I 
"member dat night to dis day ! We knowed we was 
warned, an' dat some 'v us mus' go. But which ? — 
Good Lor', dot was de question ! Shore 'nough, a week 
arter dat, Wash was taken sick an' died. He knowed 
he had to go w'en he was tuk, an' jis lay down and kin' 
o' faded out. Xo ! It doan do to have too much to do 
wid dem mo'hvs. 

" An' dat ain't all," continued the venerable servant, 
perceiving that we were all encouraging him to continue 
his discourse. " Dat ain't all, needer. Dar's one ob 
dem mo'hvs dat goes flyin' rouh' wid a reg'lar raw- 
head-and-bloody-bones on it, like de pirate flag ob Cap- 
tain Kidd. Dey calls it de ' Death's-Head Mohf,' or 
somethiir like that " 

" Did you ever see one, Dan ?" I asked, interrupting 
him. 

The old man started, spread his open palms upward, 



78 TENANTS OF A2? OLD FARM, 

rolled his eyes, shook his head, and, with a voice that 
almost trembled with fear, replied : 

u See one, did you say ? Doan nebber ask dat ques- 
tion, Mars Mayfiel'. Ob course, I nebber did ! De 
good Lor' 'n mercy forbid dat ! Amen. Why, it's all 
a man's life's worth to see a Death's-Head Mohf. Mor 1 
'n dat " — here he lowered his voice to a deep whisper— 
" dey do say dat the good Lor' He nebber made dat 
critter at all ! De ebii sperrits — de berry ole debbil 
heself — 'ceived de idee, an' fabricated dat ting in de 
darkest night obde year. Doan tell me ! I doan want 
to see no seek doin's. Doan you show me dem picters, 
needer. ]STo good luck '11 ebber come from paintin' 
dem tings. How d'ye suppose de man dat drawed 'em 
ebber libbed to do it widout some powerful conjurin' 
and cahoots wid de ebil sperrits ? Dar's bad work 
about dem books, I'se afeared." He pointed to the 
work on natural history that lay on the table, open at 
a page whereon several moths were figured. 

"An' that's as true as preachin' !" 

It w r as Sarah's voice that broke the silence that fol- 
lowed Dan's discourse, which found credulous hearers 
among a good majority of our company. The cook had 
gradually hitched her chair nearer and nearer to the 
door, until, quite unable to withstand the fascination of 
Dan's superstitious remarks, as . he lowered his voice 
she rose from her seat and now stood in the doorway. 
Her face was flushed with excitement, was wrought up 
into an expression of terror, and as she spoke she 
stretched out her arms like a prophetess. 




glG* 27.— THE SHADOW OF A MOTH.— p. 77. 



79 



80 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

"Dan never said truer words, though he isn't over- 
stocked with sense, for that matter. There's bad luck 
in them moths any way }'0u take 'em. I never 'low a 
caterpillar to git into the house, and I wouldn't for the 
world. I tell you, I run for the broom quicker when I 
see one a-coming. Why, if it spins its nasty cocoon in 
the house it's a sure sign that death'll come, and no 
tellin' who'll be taken. If it gits in your clothes- 
press, or anywhere, and spins on your dress, it's a 
certain warnin' that you'll wear a shroud before the 
year's out. " I've heerd that often, and jest know it's 
true. I don't like all them things that Mr. Mayfield 
has brought into the house, an' I told 'im so, too 1 
There, I've said my say !" 

Whereupon the good woman again retired to the 
shade of the kitchen-stove. 

I glanced around the circle, and observed that the 
countenances of my little audience showed varied emo- 
tions. A mingled expression of amusement and disap- 
probation sat upon the face of the Mistress ; evidently 
her ideas of domestic discipline had received somewhat 
of a shock. Abby could scarcely suppress the laughter 
that played around her. lips. As for the rest, they 
looked perplexed and sober, and it was easily seen that 
the superstitions of Dan and Sarah had disturbed them. 
Of course, I could not let the matter pass without some 
explanation, and, as though divining my purpose, the 
mistress disposed of Sarah by sending her into the cel- 
lar for cider and apples. 

"We have been very fortunate this evening," I 



MOTHS AT THE FIRESIDE. 81 

began, u in having living examples of the queer no- 
tions which many people have formed about these poor 
moths. Of course, they are mere superstitions, and 
ver} T absurd. You needn't shake your head, Dan, it is 
quite true ; I shan't try to straighten out such an old 
fellow as you, but we mustn't let these young people 
fall into an}- such foolish beliefs. In earlier times 
people knew so little about natural history, and were so 
filled with superstition generally, that they conceived 
all manner of ridiculous ideas of the living things 
around them, and their relations to man and his des- 
tiny. We have learned better now ; we know these 
birds, and beasts, and creeping things quite well ; for 
naturalists have studied their habits, and have inter- 
preted, in a simple and natural way, many of the 
strange sounds and sights that filled our forefathers 
with awe. Let us dismiss all such idle fancies." 

" But what is this story of Dan's, about the Death' s- 
Head Moth ?" asked Abby. " I have heard something 
of that kind before." 

"Here is the insect," I answered, turning to a figure 
in the book before us. "These white markings on a 
dark thorax certainly have a striking resemblance to a 
skull and cross-bones, and this has given the insect its 
name \Manduca atropos) ; but, like all similar resem- 
blances, it is simply one of the accidents of Xature. It 
is a European moth, and Dan very accurately illustrates 
the feelings with which it was formerly, and, indeed, is 
now, regarded by many people. Latreille informs us 
that the sudden appearance of these insects in a cer- 



82 



TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 




FIG. 28. — DEATH'S HEAD MOTH AND LARVA. 



tain district of Trance, while the people were suffering 
from an epidemic disease, was considered by many per- 
sons the cause of the visitation. There is a quaint 
superstition in England that the Death' s-Head Moth 
has been very common in "Whitehall ever since the 
' martyrdom ' of Charles I. 

"The insect is widely distributed. I have seen fine 
specimens from Germany, Africa, and Asia, in the col- 
lections of Mr. Titian Peale and the American Ento* 



MOTHS AT THE FIRESIDE. 83 

mological Society. (Fig. 28.) It is a fine insect, 
perhaps the largest in Europe — the spread of wing 
sometimes reaching six inches. The larva is enor- 
mously large, sometimes five inches in length, and, 
like our Five-spotted Sphinx, feeds upon the potato- 
plant. The jessamine is also a favorite food-plant. 
But here is Sarah, with sweet cider and apples, and 
I see that Jenny is bringing us some cake. Suppose 
we give ourselves a short recess, in order to enjov the 
refreshment. *' 



CHAPTER VI. 

FELLIONELLA AND POMONELLA — A CHRONICLE OF 
" OLD CLO'S '' AND WINDFALLS. 

" Permit me to add my contribution to the museum," 
said the Mistress, entering the room. She bore in her 
hands a rug, which she hung over the back of a chair 
close to the light. The little napless patches showing 
here and there like islands in an ocean, revealed the 
presence of that enemy of the housewife, the clothes- 
moth. 

"Ah! here we have something interesting," I ex- 
claimed. " There is no one of all the Lepidoptera whose 
habits better repay study than this little fellow." 

"What a pity," interrupted the Mistress, "that so 
many very interesting people and things in this world 
have the misfortune to be such miserable transgressors ! 
Now, here are these little wretches who play such havoc 
with our carpets, furs and cloths, so attractive in their 
characters that you natural philosophers all go off into 
enthusiasm over them. How do you account for such 
a seeming contradiction ?" 

" I allow that the little fellows are great rogues, and 
suppose it must be Nature's way to reconcile us to their 
mischief by bestowing upon them such cunning habits. 
84 




FIG. 29. — THE MISTRESS'S CONTRIBUTION 



85 



86 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

Besides, what right have we to complain ? We slaughter 
birds and beasts for feathers and furs ; we kill the silk- 
moth to get us a gown, and then think it hard if this 
poor worm makes a few raids for food and clothing upon 
our stolen finery ! No, no ! we must be just, at least. 
However, let us look at this rug closely, and I think we 
shall conclude that we have been well repaid for all our 
loss here. 

" There are several species of moths similar in habits, 
whose caterpillars feed upon animal substances, such as 
furs, woolens, silk and leather. Moreover, they are 
dreadful depredators in the naturalist's cabinet, devour- 
ing his specimens remorselessly, so that you see I have 
had occasion to practice the toleration and charit}' 
which I preach. -And why not? The creatures are 
only fulfilling the mission imposed upon them by the 
great Author of their being— to purify the world of its 
dead tissues. 

" You might add to their virtues," suggested Abby, 
sarcastically, " the fact that they contribute largely to 
increase the stock of the ( old clo's > merchant,, and thus 
confer indirectly a favor on the poor by cheapening 
clothing." 

" Thank' you!" I replied. "Any championship is 
welcome to a losing side, and many a true word has been 
spoken in jes^ " 

" These moths belong to a family named Tinea by 
entomologists, such as the tapestry moth (Tinea tapet- 
zell.a), the fur-moth (Tinea pellionclla), cabinet-moth 
{Tinea destructor), and clothes-moth (Tinea nusticella). 



PELLIONELLA AND POMONELLA. 87 

The species which has been at work upon this rug is 
probably Pellionella, the only ' clothes-moth ' known in 
the United States the larva of which constructs a case 
for its occupancy. 

" The moths themselves are very small, expanding 
their wings not more than eight-tenths of an inch. 
They are thus well fitted for making their way through 
minute holes and chinks. If they cannot- find such a 
tiny avenue into wardrobe or bureau, or fail of the 
opportunity of an open drawer or door, they will con- 
trive to glide through the keyhole. Once in, it is no 
easy matter to dislodge them, for they are exceedingly 
agile vermin, and escape out of sight in a moment. 
The mother-insect deposits her eggs on or near such 
material as will be best adapted for the food of the 
young, taking care to distribute them so that there may 
"he a plentiful supply and enough of room for each." 

" Isn't that a bit of pure maliciousness?" queried 
the Mistress. "The mother, I suppose, scatters her 
eggs so that her ravenous caterpillars may do all the 
damage possible by attacking many parts of a garment 
at the same time." 

" That is a bit of pure maternal instinct." I answered. 
"The mother-moth wisely arranges that all her off- 
spring shall have a fair outset in life — enough to eat 
and wear. When one of this scattered family issues 
from the egg its first care is to provide itself with a 
domicile, or, if you please, a dress. It belongs to that 
class of caterpillars that feed under cover. I once 
placed one upon a desk covered with green cloth and 



88 TENANTS OF AN OLD I ARM, 

set myself to watch it. It wandered about for half a 
day before it began operations. At last, having pitched 
upon a proper site, it cut out a filament very near the 
cloth, in order, I suppose, to have it as long as possible, 
and placed it on a line with its body. It then immedi- 
ately cut another, and placing it parallel with the first, 
bound both together with a few threads of its own siik. 
The same process was repeated with other hairs, till 
the little creature had made a fabric of some thickness, 
and this it went on to extend till it was large enough to 
cover its bod}^ Its body, by-the-way, as is usual with 
caterpillars, is employed as a model and measure for 
regulating its operations." 

" That's a very human trait,' ' said the Mistress ; "my 
mother invariably used part of her body as a yard- 
stick, measuring light material with outstretched arms, 
or with one full-length arm, counting from chin to 
fingers." 

"Mother Bond does that still," ventured Harry. 

" Ah, well," I said, " perhaps by-and-by we may find 
some starting-points for a bond of sympathy between 
the ladies and even a clothes-moth ! But to proceed. 
My caterpillar made choice of longer hairs for the out-' 
side than for the inside, and the covering was at last 
finished within by a fine and closely woven tapestry of 
silk. I could only see the progress of its work by look- 
ing into the opening at either of the ends, for the cov- 
ering was quite opaque and concealed the larva. In 
weaving this lining the creature turns around by 
doubling itself and bringing its head where the tail had 



PELLIONELLA AXD POMONELLA. 



89 




FIG. 30.— A CASE OF " OLD CLO's " AXD CHARITY.— p 



been, the interior being left just wide enough for this 
purpose. 

" Its dress being in this way complete, the body quite 
covered, the larva begins to feed on the material of the 
cloth, which you see is its ' bed and board ' and ward- 
robe besides. Soon, like a growing boy, our young Pel- 
lionella outgrows its clothes. As it has no father's or 

big brother's worn suits to furnish material, and no 

6 



90 TENANTS OF AN OLD FAB M. 

mot her who has learned the art of Burns' Scotch Cotter 
who ' gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new,' it 
proceeds to enlarge its own garments. It sets to work 
as dexterously as any tailor, slitting the coat or case on 
the two opposite sides, and then adroitly inserting be- 
tween them two pieces of the requisite size. It man- 
ages all this so as not to expose its body, never slitting 
the whole length of the coat at once." 

" Why," exclaimed Abby, " the worm has learned the 
mystery of a gore.! Here is certainly a fair beginning 
for that bond of sympathy of which you spoke be- 
tween the clothes-moth and the dressmaking part of 
womanhood !" 

""Shall we congratulate the moth or the mantua- 
maker on the connection ?'• I asked. 

" Really, I am not quite so sure with an answer 
as I would have been a few moments ago. My re- 
spect for the little wretches has vastly increased. I 
don't know how I shall muster courage to kill them 
hereafter !" 

tc By taking advantage of this pecular genius for 
patching," I continued, " or for gores, as Abby puts it, 
clothes-moths have been forced to make their tubular 
coats of divers' colors and patterns. By shifting the 
caterpillar from one colored cloth to another the re- 
quired tints are produced, and the pattern is gained by 
watching the creature at work, and transferring it at 
the proper time. For example, a half-grown caterpillar 
may be placed upon a piece of bright green cloth. 
After it has made its tube, it may be shifted to a black 



PELLIONELLA AND POMONELLA. 91 

cloth, and when it has cut the longitudinal slit and has 
filled it up, it can be transferred to a piece of scarlet 
cloth, so that the complementary colors of green and 
scarlet are brought into juxtaposition and ' thrown out ' 
by the contrast with the black. In this way the little 
worm, by friendly human manipulation, may by-and-by 
find itself arrayed, like the favorite son of Jacob, in 'a 
coat of many colors.' 

"The moth-worms pass the summer within these 
silk-lined, rolls, some carrying them about as they move 
along, and others fastening them to the substance they 
are eating. Concealed within these movable cases, or 
lint-covered burrows, they ply their sharp reaping-hooks 
amid the harvest of napery throughout the summer. 
In the fall they cease eating, make fast their habita- 
tions, and lie torpid during winter. Early in spring 
they change to crysalids within their cases, and in about 
twenty days thereafter are transformed to winged 
moths, which fly about in the evening until they have 
paired and are ready to lay eggs. 

"We are indebted to the Mistress for another contri- 
bution to our collection," I continued, picking up an 
apple from the dish. " This little brown hole in the 
side of our noble fruit suggests the story of a life. Do 
you know what made this opening, Joe ?" 

" Oh, yes, sir," was the ready response, " it is where 
an apple-worm got in, and you'll find it at the core." 

"Partly right and partly wrong. The apple-worm 
did make the hole, but this is not where it entered the 
fruit, and we shall not be likely to find it inside, al- 



92 



TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 




FIG. 31.— BURROW OF 
APPLE-WORM. 



though it is just possible that we may. However, let 
us cut the apple in half and see. Here, you observe, is 
a little burrow curving through the core between the 
eye (Fig. 31) and the hole in the skin, and branching 
off at the center, piercing the 
apple again at a point above. 
The worm that ate out this bur- 
row is the caterpillar of the 
codling-moth, Carpocapsa pomo- 
nella. It is a small insect, its 
wings expanding three-fourths 
of an inch ; they have the ap- 
pearance of brown watered silk, 
and' on the hinder margin of 
each of the fore wings is a large 
oval brown spot, edged with copper-color. The hind- 
wings and abdomen have the lustre of satin." 

"Why is it called the codling-moth ?" asked the 
Mistress. 

"Suppose we refer that to the Schoolma'am," I 
answered. 

"Suppose we refer it to the dictionary,"" said 
Abby, taking down the book from the shelf. "Here 
it is" : 

" ; Cocllin, or codling ' — spelled with one cZ, by-the- 
way — ' An immature apple.' And here are uses of the 
word, one by Shakespeare : c A codling when 'tis al- 
most an apple ;' and one by King, ' In cream and cod- 
lings reveling with delight.' I confess that is quite 
new to me. My notions of the word savored chiefly of 



PBLLIONELLA AND POMONELLA. 93 

our New England staple, codfish — codling, a young cod. 
"What a useful book a dictionary is I" 

" Yes, when one has learned the art of using it. Had 
you looked further you would probably have found that 
cod is an old word for pod. An apple is simply an edi- 
ble pod, the case that contains the seed of a tree. Now 
we may get back to our story. 

" Pomonella is an immigrant, not a native American ; 
she was imported to this country about the beginning 
of this century, and has so well improved her time and 
opportunities that her progeny may be found in nearly 
the whole of North America."" 

"Whence did she come ?" asked Abby. 

" From Europe, directly, at least, to us." 

"There! I am glad to learn that," returned the 
Schoolma'am. " I shall make good use of the fact when 
I next hear of America's viciousness in sending the 
Colorado potato-beetle to England." 

"Well," said the Mistress, " didn't we send the 
potato first ? Surely, our cousins should share with us 
the entomological ' trimmings.' " 

"All of which," I resumed, " would scarcely recom- 
pense our apple-growers for great loss inflicted upon 
their orchards. There are two broods of insects every 
year. The early brood appears about the time of apple- 
blossoms, having spent the winter in the larval state. 
In spring the larva? change into brown crysalids ; 
shortly after, the moths appear. The female moths 
seek the young fruit just as it is forming, and deposit 
their tiny yellow eggs in the calyx or eye, that is, the 



94 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

blossom end of the apple. Only one egg is laid on each 
apple, but as the mother has about fifty eggs to dispose 
of, you may suppose that a few wide-awake and healthy 
females can make sad havoc with a crop." 

"Ain't the same apples visited by more'n one 
moth ?" asked Hugh. 

." Sometimes two worms will be found in one apple ; 
but this is quite rare, and the fact commonly illustrates 
the force and wisdom of the maternal instinct that 
directs the moth. 

'.' The eggs begin to hatch in about a week after they 
are laid, and the little caterpillars produced from them 
immediately burrow into the apples, making their way 
gradually from the eye toward the core. The caterpil- 
lar is of a whitish color ; its head is heart-shaped and 
black ; the top of the first ring or collar and of the last 
ring is also black, and there are eight little blackish 
dots or warts arranged in pairs on each of the other 
rings. As the larva grows the body becomes flesh- 
colored, the black parts turn .brown, and the dots dis- 
appear. In the course of three weeks, or a little more, 
it comes to full size, and meanwhile has burroAved to 
the core and through the apple in various directions. 
The larva is so small at first that its presence can 
only be detected by the brownish powder that it 
pushes out in eating its way through the eye. This 
is made up of the * castings ' or exuviae of the worm, 
and is a sure sign of infected fruit, as it often clings 
to the apple." 

" True enough 1" exclaimed Hugh. " I've often seed 



PELLIONELLA A1STD POMONELLA. 



95 





them reddish -brown 
grains on worm-eaten 
apples, but never know'd 
w'at it was. But w'at's 
the idee in dumpin' 
'em out this a- 
way?" 

" Simply a wish 
to get rid of the 
refuse. Our cater- 
pillar is a very tidy housekeeper, 
and cleans its little habitation 
with a zeal that the ladies at 
least will commend. As it grows 
older it enlarges its quarters to 
suit its increased size, and gener- 
ally makes 'a second opening or 
door through the 

. , „ .,' . FIG. 32. — COCOON, PUPA, FEMALE AND 

side ot tne apple, LAlRVA of the codling moth, and 

out of which frao - - a parasitic ichneumon-fly. 



96 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

ments of food are cast. The effect of all these opera- 
tions is to ripen the apple before its time, and hence 
we have what are known as ' wind-falls, ' although 
the wind is not necessary to bring down the precocious 
fruit, for it tumbles in the stillest weather. These 
worm-eaten apples are gathered up by basketfuls, and 
are among the earliest brought to our markets." 

" That is so," said Hugh ; " and, now I think of it, 
we get such good prices for these early wind-falls that 
I doubt whether the apple-worm does as much harm 
as I'd thought. Many's the hard word I've said 
agin the little beggars, an' I reckon I'll take, some of 
'em back." 

"What has become of the worm?" asked Abby, 
who had been carefully picking out the burrows in the 
cut apple. " There is certainly no trace of larva or 
crysalis here." 

" True, and for a quite sufficient reason. When the 
apples drop, and sometimes while they are still hang- 
ing, our codlings escape through the opening in the side 
(Fig. 32) and creep into chinks in the bark of the trees, 
or into other sheltered places, which they hollow out 
with their teeth to suit their shape. Here each one 
spins for itself a cocoon or silken case as thin, delicate, 
and white as tissue paper. This is disguised or pro- 
tected on the outside by attaching to siiky threads small 
fragments of the bark of the tree or other available 
particles. (Fig. 32.) 

"Three days after the completion of the cocoon the 
larva changes to a crysalis. The pupa is a pale yellow 



PELLIONEL'LA AND POMONELLA. 97 

color at first, which deepens in a day or two to pale 
brown. Two weeks thereafter the transformation is 
complete, and the imago or perfect moth escapes. This 
event occurs about the middle or latter part of July. 
Then follows the wedding-day, and in a few days more 
the female begins to deposit her eggs for the late brood 
of larva?, the late apples being generally selected for this 
purpose. These larvse mature during the. autumn' or 
early winter months. Sometimes they crawl out or 
swing themselves out before the apples are gathered, in 
which case they seek some sheltered nook under the 
loose bark of a tree, or other convenient hiding-place. 
But if carried with the fruit into the cellar, they of 
course spin their cocoons upon the boxes, bins, barrels, 
or walls." 

" I have it now P ! exclaimed Hugh, abruptly. " Beg 
your pardon, sir, but I'd been try in' to think, w'ile you 
w r as tellin' about them cocoons, w'ere I'd seen sich ob- 
jecks, 'n I jest happened to remember. Las' winter I 
found hundreds of 'em spun up betwixt the staves and 
hoops of the apple bar'ls. I noticed 'em as a cur'ns 
thing, but didn't know w'at to make of 'em, and never 
tho't of 'em ag'in until now. Them was apple-worms ; 
I'm sure of it now." 

"I have no doubt of it, Hugh; and you provided 
them with snug winter-quarters, and then allowed them 
to escape, to come out last spring by companies to infest 
the apples.- But you'll know better another time, I 
dare say." 

"That I will, sir; and I'll pass the hint around 



98 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM, 

among my neighbors, too. There's a worm that bores 
into the pears, pretty much in the same way as the 
apples. Is that the same varmint ?" 

" Yes ; the apple-worm is very destructive to the 
pear, and is also found on the wild crab, and occasion- 
ally on the plum and peach. And now I believe that I 
have finished the story of Pomonella and how she 
punctures our apples." 

"A very pretty tale it is, too," said Abby, looking 
up with a bright smile. " One of my classes was read- 
ing yesterday the legend of William Tell and the 
Apple, and I have just been wondering whether some 
of our myth-hunting critics and historians, might not 
find the origin of that favorite story in the adventures 
of a codling-moth ! I can fancy the mother Pomonella 
personating the tyrant Gessler, and imposing upon our 
Caterpillar — the William Tell of Insect-world, you 
know — the destiny of forever piercing apples !" 

" But what will you have to represent the Switzer's 
little boy ?" I asked. 

"Oh, the apple-bough, of course; and how nicely 
the idea of youth's immature age harmonizes with our 
definition of a ' codling ' — the punctured, immature 
fruit!" 

"At all events," said the Mistress, when the laugh 
at Abby's sally had ceased, "your mothical Tell main- 
tains the legendary hero's reputation for archery. It 
rarely fails to ' bring down ' the apple. But, really, I 
didn't know that our schoolmistress had such a genius 
for the so-called ' higher criticism !' -" 



PELLIONELLA AND FOMONELLA. 



99 




FIG.33.-r-A MOTHICAL VERSION OF TELL AND THE 
APPLE. 

"Can you tell, please," asked Hugh, who had not 
quite grasped our by-play and evidently wanted some- 
thing more practical, "how to get rid of the worms? 
I've tried smokin' them out, burnin' weeds under the 
trees, bi|t $$a$. don't seem to amount to much." 



100 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

"Of course, any smoking, to be effective, should be 
done in the season when the moths are laying their 
eggs. That may smother or drive away the mothers. 
I would recommend carefully scraping oft' the loose and 
rugged bark of the trees in the spring, in order to de- 
stroy the crysalids. Perhaps the most effective plan is 
the old-fashioned band-trap. A band of old cloth or a 
twist of common brown paper is wound around or hung 
in the crotches of the trees, or wrapped about the trunk. 
In these the apple-worms will conceal themselves, and 
thus great numbers of the larva and cocoons may be 
taken and destroyed from the time when they first 
begin to leave the apples, during the last of May, until 
the fruit is gathered. Of course, the bands should be 
often examined. There is one precaution, however, 
that is certainly very useful. As the larvae leave the 
fruit soon after it drops from the trees, the wind-fallen 
apples should be gathered up daily and such immediate 
use made of them as will be sure to kill the insects 
before they have time to escape." 

"Oh, dear! 1 '' cried Abby, laughing, "that means 
fresh — defer/" and she pointed to our empty glasses. 
" Shan't I help you to a little more ? You must be 
thirsty from talking.' 1 '' 

" Certainly ; you shall not destroy my relish for the 
drink even though you make it sure that Hugh and 
Dan did put a few worm-eaten apples into the mill. I 
am reminded of a remark that I recently heard Dr. 
Joseph Leidy make at a meeting of the Philadelphia 
Academv of Natural Sciences. He had been making a 



PELLTONELLA AND POMONELLA. 101 

communication upon a certain large parasitic worm 
whose ' host ' is our famous ' Delaware shad, ' and con- 
eluded by saying that a portion of the fish — which I 
forbear to name out of respect for the epicures — that is 
considered the most delicious morsel of all, owes its 
delicate flavor to the presence of this parasite ! ' I 
.suppose,' said the distinguished naturalist, 'that our 
shad-loving friends would cease to relish- this tidbit if 
they only knew the facts. But, then, why should they ? 
— for the parasite is composed of pure shad, and nothing 
more.' So I say of " 

" Oh, you needn't explain," interrupted the Mistress, 
" the application is quite obvious. But for the benefit 
of the rest of the family, if not for your sake, I beg to 
say that Hugh has strict instructions to use only sound 
apples for cider." 

" True enough, ma'am," said the farmer ; " and you 
may be sure that we are all very careful. Miss Abby 
says that takin' care of win'-fahs meaus cider. ]S"ot at 
all, ma'am ; it means good feed for the pigs and for the 
cows, too, for that matter." 

U I recant, I recant," cried Abby ; " and so encour- 
aged, I also will renew my glass." 



CHAPTER VII. 

MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 

"I HOPE yo\s gwine to hab mo' ob dem talks 'boon' 
de insecks, Mars Mayfiel'." 

So Dan greeted me a few days after our first fireside 
meeting. He twirled his battered hat brim through 
his horny hands, then rubbed a white palm against the 
back of his grizzled locks, ducked his head forward and 
continued : "I doan jes kno' w'at yo 'd call 'em, sah, 
but Sary Ann 'lowed dey's say-an'-says. ' An' w'at are 
say-an'-shys, Sary Ann?' says I. 'Wal,' says she, 
' dey 's a sort ob free an' easy kine o' talk, w'ar yo 
says, an' den I says, an' all jine in an' helps de talk 
along. Now dat 's a powerful pleasant kine ob afi'ar, 
Mars Mayfield, an' suits us 'ns heap better 'n loafin' 
roun' de kentry store, an' sich. So we uns — dat \s 
Hugh's folks an' Sary Ann an' me — we makes bold to 
ax yo, wouldn't yo 'low us de priv'lege ob jinin' in de 
say-an'-says, in case yo gwine to hab mo' ob 'em, an' 
we sincerely hope yo is." 

"Why, Dan, I hadn't thought much about it," 1 

answered. "But you maybe sure if there should be 

any more ' say-an'-says,' you all will be welcome to the 

fireside." 

"T'ank yo, sah ; we 's all powe'ful 'bleeged to vuh, 
102 



MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 



103 




FIG. 34. — THE GEOMETRID HORROR. — p. 104. 



an' hopes we '11 hab de pleasure ob yo company at 
anoder conbersashull family fireside say-an'-say, ben- 
soon." 

Although I laughed at Dan's magniloquence, I was 
more gratified at that hearty honest approval of my 
humble dependents than I had often been before at 
commendations of cultured friends. To be sure, I 
learned by-aud-by that the Mistress was also in the 
plot, and that Dan's praises were in good part an echo 
of her promptings ; but the pleasure of the moment 
was not dimmed by that knowledge. Thus it came 
#,bout that the next Saturday evening found our house- 



104 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

hold gathered in the old sitting-room for another ento- 
mological ' seance. ' Where Sarah had picked up that 
word, and how she had managed to transform it. we 
never learned, but we were all so impressed with the 
superiority of her version, that the cook's title w T as at 
once naturalized, and ' the Tenant's Say-an'says ' be- 
came one of the current phrases of our little realm when 
we were in a merry mood. 

" I have here a specimen," I began, " plucked from 
a straggling sprig of wood-wax or dyer's weed [Genista 
iinctoria) which represents a very familiar race of cater- 
pillars, the Geometers, or span-worms. They are so 
called from the mode of walking peculiar to the larvae. 
Most of these have only ten legs, six of which are 
jointed and tapering, under the fore part of the body, 
and four fleshy prop legs at the hinder extremity. 
There are no legs on the middle of the body, and con- 
sequently the caterpillars are unable to crawl in the 
usual manner. When one wishes to advance it grasps 
the object firmly with its fore feet, and then draws up 
the hind feet close to them, not unlike the attitude 
of a cat which meets a strange dog. The hinder 
feet then take a firm hold and the body is projected 
forward until 1 the fore feet can repeat the process. 
This mode of progression is popularly called 'loop- 
ing,' and the caterpillars are called ' loopers.' 

" The Geometers live as larvae on trees and bushes, and 
most of them undergo their transformations in the 
ground, to reach which by traveling along the branches 
and down the trunk by their peculiar gait would be a. 



ME 'A SUR E FOR MEASURE. 



105 



long and tedious journey. But they are not reduced 
to this necessity, for they have the power of letting 
themselves down from any height by means of a silken 
thread which they spin from their mouths while falling. 
Whenever they are disturbed they make use of this 




FIG. 60. — NOTOLOPHUS LEUCOSTIGMA, TUSSOCK MOTH. MALE, 
FEMALE AND LARVA, NATURAL SIZE. — p. 106. 

faculty, drop down suddenly and hang suspended till 
the danger is past, after which they climb up again by 
the same thread." 

"These, then," said the Mistress, "are the little 

7 



106 



TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 



creatures that used to make a promenade along our 
streets in summer a horror to ladies before the advent 
of the sparrows ?" 

" The very same ; but I doubt whether citizens have 
made a favorable exchange for the pretty hairy creeper, 
caterpillar of the Tussock-moth (Notoloplivs leucostigmd) 
(Fig. 35), that now fills the squares, fences and walls 
with its knobby white cocoons." (Fig. 36.) 

u Why, don't the sparrows eat 
them, too ?" asked Abby. 

"Ah, a mere question of taste. 
The soft, smooth, Geometers are 
a dainty bit to the birds, and the 
plumed crawlers are not at all 
to their liking. Why, I have 
seen the very bird-boxes in the 
public square covered with the 
Tussock-moth's cocoons — crown- 
ed with their white egg-masses. 
Were the caterpillars crawling 
at their very doors, and their 
hungry fledglings gaping for food, 
the parent birds would come 
home without supplies rather 
than forage upon the Orgyia 
worms. So the larvse breed securely and in yearly 
increasing numbers. 

"If a little wise energy and forethought could be 
shown by the city authorities in this matter, the evil 
could soon be remedied. The chief sites of these cocoons 




FIG. 30. 

COCOON OP TUSSOCK 

MOTH, NATURAL SIZE. 



MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 107 

are the iron fences around the squares, the trunks of trees, 
the walls and fence cornices of adjacent properties. If 
these were thoroughly cleansed, the cocoons scraped out 
and burned in winter, there would be a scant crop of 
.span-worms in summer. For several years I have 
watched these troublesome cocoons advancing a little 
further each season up the trunks of the trees and mul- 
tiplying along public places, and 1 have more than once 
predicted that the nuisance would ere long be well-nigh 
intolerable. But an American city, like Issachar among 
the tribes, is a ' strong ass crouching down between two 
burdens, 1 who sees 'that rest is good ' and 'bows his 
shoulders to bear,' and hardly even exercises the healthy 
Anglo-Saxon right of grumbling at official ignorance 
and neglect. So canker-worms — not those alone which 
are comparatively harmless, but those of the moral, 
social and political sort — breed in public places, crawl 
unmolested through every highway and byway, and spin 
and nest in all departments of communal administration 
and life. Alas ! Well, 'a stitch in time saves nine.' " 

"And there are some citizens," cried the Mistress, 
apparently quite oblivious of my figurative speech 
and philosophy, and reverting to the encroachments 
of the Orgyia, ; ' who allow those dreadful worms 
to crawl up their very walls and doorways and build 
cocoons under the mouldings and ledges of doors and 
windows quite unmolested. I see hundreds of them 
housed in such places the entire year. Such house-keep- 
ing ! I can't understand how ladies will tolerate it." 

u Perhaps," suggested Abby, ''they tolerate the 



108 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

worms out of the same mercifulness from which they feed 
the vixenish sparrows who refuse to kill the worms.'" 

u A truce to our moralizing," I said ; "let us return 
to our span-worm hanging from the tree. The manner 
in which it ascends its thread is most interesting. In 
order to do this it bends back its head and catches hold 
of the thread above its head with one of the legs of the 
third segment of the body. It then raises its head and 
seizes the thread with its jaws and forelegs, and by 
repeating the same operations with tolerable rapidity it 
soon reaches its former station on the tree. 

There is another interesting habit which these Geom- 
eters possess ; when not eating, many of them can rest 
on the two hindermost pairs of legs against the side of a 
branch, and stretching out the body nearly horizontally 
remain in that position for hours, so that they might easl*y 
be mistaken for the twig of a tree. If Joe and Harry 
would like to get some slight idea of the muscular force 
required to perform this action, let them grasp an up- 
right pole with their hands and try to hold the body 
out horizontally. The feats of trained gymnasts in the 
circus ring or turnverein are fairly outdone by these 
despised span-worms. I think that you will agree with 
me that they are interesting little fellows. Moreover, 
notwithstanding the disgust with which, as the Mistress 
says, the city folk used to regard them as they dropped 
from the trees, I venture that there are plenty of people 
who would rather welcome their presence than other- 
wise. Perhaps some of our young people can tell us 
why V" 



MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 



109 




"I can, sir, 
Harry answered 
promptly. "Jenny 
used to say that it 
was a sign we were 
goin' to git a new 
coat when one 01 
them caterpillars 
was seen steppin' 
off distance on our 



FIG. 37. — OUR IMPORTED PROTECTORS, MUTUAL DISGUST. — p. 106. 

English Sparrow to Irish Guardian of American Peace—" Do your 
own nahsty work, sir ; H'english sparrows, sir, didn't come 'ere to eat 
Imp your nahsty H'american worms 1" 

arms or back. We call them 'measurin' worms' on 
that account." 

" Yes, that is the idea : a new coat when seen meas- 
uring the arms or back, a new pair of gloves when seen 
looping on the hand, and so through the whole suit. 
I fear that, like many another local prophet, their 
promise is better than their fulfillment. However, we 



110 



TENANTS OF AN' OLD FARM. 



cannot deny that in the proper season they are very 
diligent in suggesting the subject of new clothes to all 
passers-by who credit their prophetic office.' 1 

" A quality, by-the-way," said Abby, "which they 
share in common with the 'Barkers' in front of Market 
Street and Chatham Street clothing stores. And, like 
•Barkers,' I imagine that their attentions are more 
respected by country folk than city people." 

"Here is another of the Looper tribe, or rather a 
mother-moth, which fortunately I have been able to 
collect. I have two specimens, and they are mounted 
upon this bit of cork. Pass them around the circle and 
let all have a good look at them. They are not very 
familiar creatures in their 
moth or perfect form, but 
they are quite too well 
known in the larval state. 
Come, Miss Abby, you seem 
to be studying that speci- 
men very closely, and mean- 
while Hugh is anxious to 
see it, and will be much 
more so when he learns what 
it is. What is the matter 
now?" I asked, as the 
Schoolteacher shook her 
head and handed the insect to Hugh, with an incredul- 
ous 'Humph!' "My poor moth appears to have ex- 
cited your indignation !" (Fig. 38.) 

" Truly so," replied Abby. " I confess myself a tyro 




FIG. 38. — A MOTHER 
MOTH. 



MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 



Ill 




FIG, 39.— A GEOMETRID TUKNVBEEIN.— p. 108. 

in all branches of entomology, and it would be a sorry 
victory for a specialist who should impose on me. But 
really, I think that I have learned enough even within 
the last few days to prevent you palming that creature 
upon me as a moth. Why, it doesn't resemble that in- 
sect in the least." 



112 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

" So say I," echoed the Mistress. 

" And what says Hugh ?" I asked, as the sturdy fel- 
low turned the insect around slowly and carefully scru- 
tinized it on all sides. 

" Well, sir, I — I begin to find that I know so lee tie 
'bout the commonest sorts o' critters that I don't like 
to venture a 'pinion. But ef that 's a moth, I reckon 
you 've pulled its wings off. 

"Not a bad guess," I said, laughing. " But I assure 
you that it is a moth, and that I have not pulled its wings 
off. However, not to keep you in suspense, I may tell 
you that in certain species of moths the female is wing- 
less. The pretty feathered caterpillar that we spoke of 
a little while ago as now infesting our public squares 
has a wingless mother. This is another example ; it is 
a veritable moth, the female of a species known as the 
orchard moth (Anisopteryx pometaria, Harris), a variety 
perhaps of the vernal moth (PaJeacrita vemata, Pack- 
ard). It is the mother of our northern canker-worm." 

"The canker-worm? Indeed !" exclaimed Hugh. " Let 
me look at the creatur' again, please. Well, well ! who 
would have tho't such pestiferous gangs uv varmin "d 
a-sprnng from a mite uv a beast like that I 11 (Fig. 40.) 

"For my part," said the Mistress, "I think her 
quite ugly enough to be the mother of any kind of 
odious creature. Moreover, I shall owe her an addi- 
tional grudge because our good professor here used her 
to victimize so mercilessly his confiding pupils. Think 
what our Schoolma'am — " 

"Oh, dear, no!" interrupted Abby, smiling good- 



MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 



113 







naturedly. "I decidedly deserved it; and, besides, I 
practice similar modes of impressing facts upon my 
pupils, and as it serves admirably, I can't complain in 

this case. I am sure 
that I, at least, will not 
forget that some mother- 
moths are wingless." 

"Very good, then; 
since I am fully ab- 
solved, I may resume 
our story. I captured 
these specimens as they 
were making their way 
up one of our apple 
trees, having just left 
the ground in which 
they had matured. It 
was formerly supposed 
that the canker-worm moths came out of the ground 
only in the spring. It is now known that many of 
Uiem rise in the autumn and early part of the win- 
ter. In mild and open winters I have seen them in 
every month from October to March. They begin to 
make their appearance after the first hard frosts in the 
Fall, usually toward the end of October and continue to 
come forth in numbers according to the mildness of 
the weather after the frosts have begun. 

"However, their general time of rising is in the 
spring, beginning about the middle of March, and they 
continue to come forth for the space of about three 



FIG. 40. — ORCHARD MOTH, WING- 
LESS FEMALE, WINGED MALE, 
AND LARVA. 



114 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

weeks. The sluggish females instinctively make their 
way to the nearest trees, and creep slowly up their 
trunks. Their husbands, having better facilities for 
traveling, inasmuch as they are winged, delay their ad- 
vent a few days, when they also leave their earthen 
cells and join the females, fluttering about and accom- 
panying them in their ascent. 

" Soon after this the females lay their eggs upon the 
branches of the trees. They place them on their ends 
close together in rows, forming clusters of from sixty 
to one hundred eggs or more, which is the number 
usually laid by each female. The eggs are glued to 
each other and to the bark by a grayish varnish which 
is impervious to water ; and the clusters are thus 
securely fastened in the forks of the small branches, or 
close to the young twigs and buds. The eggs are 
usually hatched between the first and the middle of 
May, or about the time that the red currant is in 
blossom and the young leaves of the apple-tree begin to 
start from the bud and grow. The little canker-worms, 
upon making their escape from the eggs, gather upon 
the tender leaves and begin to eat. If there comes a 
snap of cold, and during rainy weather, they creep fori 
shelter into the bosom of the bud, or into the flowers 
when they appear. The leaves first attacked will be 
found pierced with small holes ; these become larger and 
more irregular when the canker-worms increase in size, 
and at last nearly all the pulpy parts are consumed, 
leaving little more than the midrib and veins. 

" The worms when well fed grow to be an inch long ; 



MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 



115 




FIG. 41. — THE CLOTHES BARKER'S PARADISE.— p. 110. 



they quit eating when about four weeks old, and begin 
to leave the trees ; some creep down by the trunk, but 
great numbers let themselves down by threads from the 
branches, their instinct prompting them to get to the 
ground by the most direct and easiest course." 

" Oh, yes,' 1 said Joe, " I have seen them hanging that 
way from the branches that jut across the road. It 
kept us dodging to get rid uv 'em as we drove along." 

" Aye, and I doubt not you helped nature in distribut- 
ing the little fellows along the road-side, for they lay 
hold upon passing objects and are carried goodly dis- 
tances before shaken off. When they reach the ground 
they immediately burrow in the earth to the depth of 



110 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

from two to six inches, and make little cavities or cells 
by turning around repeatedly and fastening the loose 
grains of earth about them with a few silken threads. 
Within twenty-four hours afterward, they are changed 
to crysalids in their cells, where, as we have seen, they 
transform in the autumn and winter as well as spring. 
They usually come out of the ground in the night, when 
the females may be seen straggling through the grass 
from various points of the area bounded by the spread 
of the branches, and making toward the trunk." 

" You didn't tell us what becomes of the mother- 
moths," suggested Harry. 

" There is little more to be said about them, for they 
are very short-lived ; when they have laid their eggs 
they begin to languish, and soon die." 

" You spoke of the worms takin' to the apple-trees," 
said Hugh, " but I find thet they aren't ver}' pertikler in 
their tastes, so 's they kin git a holt 'v suthin' thet 
damages the farmer. I 've found 'em on the cherry and 
plum, and they 're special fonduv the elm." 

" That is true ; and you might extend their bill of fare 
to some other cultivated and native trees, as well as 
many shrubs." 

" Is this the canker-worm of which we read in the 
Bible ?" asked the Mistress. " It seems to have been a 
great scourge to the people of Palestine and those parts. " 

"It is not easy to answer that question. The exact 
meanings of words used in the Hebrew Testament to 
express all forms of animal life, are hard to determine. 
Some have supposed the word translated 'canker* 



MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 117 

worm ' to refer to the locust or at least to the larva of 
the locust ; but the words rendered ' palmer-worm ' and 
' caterpillar ' seem to have had reference to some species 
of canker-worm. " 

"I should like it amazingly if you could tell me how 
to get rid of the varmin," remarked Hugh. 

"Practical entomology is not much in my line," I 
answered, "and I fear that such a theme would not 
greatly interest the majority of our little circle. But I 
can tell you of an ancient remedy that was supposed to 
he very effective. In the early part of the seventeenth 
century the peasants in many places in Germany took 
this mode : they pulled a stake from a hedge, looped 
around it a rope which they rapidly drew back and 
forth until the friction kindled it into a flame. This 
they carefully fed with stubble and dry wood. When 
the bonfire had quite burned out the peasants collected 
the ashes and spread them over their garden vegetables, 
confident that by this means they could drive away the 
canker-worm. This fire they called the 'Xodfeur,' 
or, as we might sa}', the s Xeed-fire. ' ' 

"You don't mean to say, sir," asked Hugh, "that 
you think the Xodfeur ashes really did any good in 
keeping off the canker-worms?" 

"Why not?" I inquired. 

"Tut, tut!" exclaimed the Mistress.* "I am sure 
you don't indorse any such nonsense. It was pure 
superstition that prompted the custom, and you haven't 
much • of that element in your mental make-up, I know 
well." 



118 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

"The question," I rejoined, "was not whether the 
custom originated in or was maintained by superstition, 
but whether the Kodfeur ashes were beneficial ; and I 
answer that confidently in the affirmative. If one were to 
sprinkle such material upon the vegetables when covered 
with the morning dew it would adhere to the leaves and 
thus make them distasteful to the caterpillars. This 
says nothing of the effect of the potash in the ashes, 
which maybe injurious, nor of the dislike of larvse and, 
indeed, of many insects to move over surfaces covered 
with pulverized matter. I attribute nothing at all, of 
course, to the effect of the fetich, but much to the protec- 
tion given by making the natural food-plant obnoxious 
to the worms. 

"There is another element which enters into the 
utility of this and all like remedies. Many years ago 
I read an incident which illustrates my thought. I re- 
peat it from memory, and cannot vouch for all the de- 
tails, but give the substance of the story as I remember 
it. A noble German lad}' found that despite her best 
endeavor there was a vast wastage in her household and 
a consequent trenching upon her limited income. At 
last she went to a hermit famous for godliness and 
wisdom, and asked for a charm to protect her from 
this grief. The good man gave her a little sealed box, 
containing the required charm, instructing her to place 
the same in one corner of every room in her house and 
out-buildings once every day, varying as much as pos- 
sible the hour of her daily visit. He bade her, also, 
return at the end of a year to report results. 



MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 119 

"A year passed and the lady returned with good 
news and a grateful offering. The charm had wrought 
wonders. Her household was never in such goodly 
condition, the wastage had stopped, the continual anx- 
iety over insufficient income had ceased, her husband 
was delighted, her neighbors full of praise. She begged 
for a renewal of the charm, declaring that she would 
not be without it for much money. 

wt The monk broke the seal and showed* the contents 
of the box. It was empty! 'See,' he said, 'there is 
no charm here ! That which has wrought the good re- 
sults over which you rejoice, has been your own care 
for every part of your house. As you went to each 
room you saw what was needed and supplied it, what 
was wrong and righted it. Your eyes were upon all your 
men and maids, as well as on their work every day, and 
they felt the influence of this oversight. There has 
been no other charm than this, and you need no other. 
Go, lady, and henceforth hold faithfully to the rule and 
habit of the past year, and be assured that your home 
will be a well-ordered, prosperous and happy one.' " 

"Truly," said the Mistress, "that was a wise old 
monk. I can vouch for it that a constant personal 
inspection of all one's house, especially of the cuddies 
and corners, will work like a charm toward good 
housekeeping. But really, I don't quite take the ap- 
plication of your story to the German peasants and 
their canker-worms." 

" Indeed ! Then you are not apt as usual to see a 
point. In fighting insect pests it is precisely as in 



120 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

housekeeping. The constant oversight of every plant 
discovers the destroyer and ieads to its prompt destruc- 
tion. The man who daily visits his growing vegetables, 
with or without ashes or other preventive, will sec the 
canker-worms and kill them. Nor does once going over 
the crop serve. The worms are legion ; each day has its 
own host, which must be met that day before devasta- 
tion begins. I have the notion that the old-time 
Nodfeur custom may have looked also to this point. 
Perhaps some wise observer, who knew that men will 
often maintain good habits better under the spur of a 
superstition than the stimulus of simple good sense and 
experience, may have set his neighbors to defend their 
crops by the invention of a bit of supposed harmless 
superstition. Or, more likely, the superstition gradually 
grew around what was originally only a wise rule of 
successful horticulture." 

"Well, sir," remarked Hugh, u You 're quite right 
in thinkin' that constant watchin' is the great thing in 
raisin' garden sass. I 've had the best kind o' luck in 
the very worst years for worms and bugs, jist by goin' 
over and over the wines. I knock off the critters into a 
pan an' then kill 'em. It 's a good deal o' trouble, but 
ef a man wants wegetables he's got to do it, I reckon. 
There 's alius a few days w'en the varmin is particlar 
bad, an' by standin' to 't morain' and evenin' durin' 
those days a feller '11 come out purty well." 



Chapter yiii. 

INSECT TBOGLODYTES. 

One of our favorite walks, during these autumn days, 
leads across the meadow, down the hill-slope, over the 
brooklet, and so, by a rocky steep beyond, through a 
thick woods to the banks of Crum creek. On the oc- 
casion of which I am now to write my companion was 
an elderly clerical friend, the Rev. Dr. Goodman. The 
Doctor is a noble example of the old-time clergyman. 
His tall, sturdy frame, scarcely bowed by his seventj T 
years, is always robed in becoming black, never, in any 
contingency, omitting the indispensable dress-coat. His 
full curly white hairs fall upon his neck beneath a 
broad-brimmed black hat, a compromise between the 
Quaker pattern and a Yankee wide-awake. His strong, 
benignant face is clean-shaved, and his well-turned chin, 
just verging upon the " double," is lifted above a broad, 
white choker, between the wide-apart points of an old- 
fashioned standing collar. In these latter days his 
waistcoat has expanded somewhat above a growing 
rotundity, and beneath it a goodly fobchain protrudes. 
The gold watch to which it dangles, and the portly 
gold-headed cane which he carries, are both the gifts 
of his warmly-attached parishioners. His salary is 
modest, enough, though somewhat more generous than 
Goldsmith's parson, iv passing rich with forty pounds a 

8 121 



122 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

year ;" but as his church owns a cozy manse and ample 
glebe, he lives contentedly and even comfortably, with 
his wife and two daughters. His home is at Marple, six 
miles across the hills, and he has driven over to spend a 
night at the Old Farm and renew a pleasant friendship 
formed during seasons when one summer had been spent 
within his parish. 

As his rumbling old carryall turned down our avenue 
behind the fat, chestnut-bay horse whose lazy jog-trot 
is known through all the country side, the familiar sight 
stirred up very pleasant thoughts. 

"My dear Doctor," I exclaimed, greeting him at the 
gate, " you are welcome, indeed ! To what fair fortune 
are we indebted for this pleasant surprise ?" 

The good minister was altogether too guileless to ward 
off this direct query without uncovering the truth. He 
blushed, hesitated and glanced appealingly at the Mis- 
tress, who had now joined in the greeting. 

" Ah ! I see how it is," I said, coming to the relief of 
the embarrassed parties; "another conspiracy in my 
behoof!" 

"Just so, just so!" exlaimed the Doctor, nodding 
his head with unction, while his face beamed a happy 
smile. " And I 'm heartily glad the cat 's out of the 
bag, although I suspect this particular cat is a very 
harmless kitten ! However, it 's all right now, and I 've 
come to spend the evening with you." 

So I knew that the hand of the little Mistress, the 
true guardian angel of those invalid days, had touched 
the spring that moved the Doctor hitherward ; as. 




FIG. 43. — ANCIENT CAVE-DWELLERS.— p. 124, 



124 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

indeed, it had similarity done on so many kindred occa- 
sions. 

The Doctor, like most of his profession, has always 
had an intelligent interest in natural science, and, more- 
over, cultivated a speciality in ethnology and arche- 
ology. He is deep in the problem of man 's antiquity ; and 
what with works on "Preadamites," " Cave-Hunting," 
"The Epoch of the Mammoth," "The Story of 
Earth and Man," ""The Races of Man," etc., has 
a busy time in keeping his friends of the modern school 
in harmony with his older friends of the Usherian 
Bible chronology. He brought over with him, on his 
present visit, a recent work on " Early Man in Europe," 
which we had abundantly (not to say thoroughly) dis- 
cussed during the evening after the lamps had been 
lit and afire kindled on the hearth. "Just for the 
wee bit blinkin' o' the ingle," wife said, "and to 
mellow the night chill of the advancing fall." The 
frontispiece of the Doctor's book is some ideal scene of 
troglodytic life. It is a night scene : a fire is burn- 
ing in front of a rocky cavern, around which the dusky 
forms of a primitive family are grouped ; a full moon 
.shines in. the background, and in the foreground a pack 
of hungry wolves are pushing up over the rocks as near 
as they dare come to the fire, which thus, in more than 
one sense, protects the unconscious cave-men (Fig. 42.) 
The picture, at least, succeeded in stirring up the im- 
aginations of our Mistress and the inquisitive School- 
ma'am, . so that the Doctor had full room to expand 
upon his favorite theme. 



INSECT TROGLODYTES. 125 

"Well, Doctor," I said, when we had finished morn- 
ing worship, "I have something to show you down here 
that will gratify your antiquarian interest in your fellow- 
men. Moreover, I think I can put you on the trail of 
a race of troglodytes of even more ancient descent than 
those of whom you told us last night." 

" Indeed ! But — tut ! you are trying to quiz me, I 
see." 

u Xot in the least ; get your hat and cane, and let us 
walk over to the creek ; you shall judge if I am not 
in good earnest. " 

"Well, well, I confess that I am incredulous still; 
but it 's a fine morning for a walk, at any rate, and 
there 's nothing gives such interest to a journey as 
some pleasant motive and destination." 

" There 's a deal of deep philosophy in that remark," 
continued the good man after a pause, during which he 
had arrayed himself for the excursion, "a philosophy 
that one does well to apply to all the pilgrimage of this 
life and its final destination, which I hope may be a 
happy one for us all. Ah ! excuse me, I really did not 
mean to preach !" And he did not, for the blush 
mantled his face, and he looked askance at me as though 
anticipating my displeasure. We were now fairly 
afield, and our thoughts turned again upon the troglo- 
dytes. 

"There is one thing," I said, "that puzzles me in 
your view of the early cave-men. May I ask how you 
reconcile it with your belief as to the condition of the 
original pair of Eden ?" 



126 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

"To be sure ! There 's no contradiction at all. 
Adam and Eve were very primitive, indeed, in their 
habits. Their moral nature was unclouded — therein 
lay their original perfectness. They were civilized 
men in that respect ; in other particulars they simply 
had the rudiments of civilization. With natural in- 
telligence such as man now possesses, with knowledge 
of fire, and situated in a soft and congenial climate, 
they rapidly developed, as we see in the family of Cain, 
the arts of herding, music, and smelting metals.'" 

"Well, but were they troglodytes? Did they have 
those horrible struggles with the wild beasts of the 
earth hinted at in your book ?" 

"Certainly not ; their environment saved them from 
such necessities. But then some of their posterity, as 
they scattered over the earth, relapsed from many of 
the acquired arts of civilized men, as they became vicious 
in morals, and falling upon adverse surroundings, it is 
not strange that they should have been troglodytes or 
cave-men of the rudest type — quite as savage as tribes 
of which we know to-day. But — pray, what is this ? 
A grave, here in the meadow ?" 

We had been quietly jogging along the path, and now 
stopped beside a marble slab fixed in the midst of the 
field, that might easily have been taken for a grave- 
stone. It was eighteen inches in height, six in thick- 
ness and seven in width. It sloped with the descent of 
the hill, and around its base clumps of grass, clover and 
sheep-sorrel had gathered. 

The Doctor lost no time in donning his spectacles, 



•JNSE CT TR OL OD YTES. 



12? 




FIG. 43. — CAVE-DWELLERS — ANCIENT AND MODERN. 



and kneeling down beside the stone read the inscrip- 
tion : 

©ozones, 

CAVE & 
DWELLING 

1685. 



128 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

"'This is your antiquarian rarity, is it?" he asked, 
rising. "It is certainly. worth seeing; and now let us 
have its story, although I could guess the nature of it. 
I believe the name is that of one of our good old Quaker 
families, and the date carries us so near to the era of 
the settlement of our State that I readily conjecture the 
fact here commemorated." 

"Yes, I see that you have easily guessed the truth, 
although it is often puzzling enough to those less fam- 
iliar with our pioneer history. This farm was first 
brought under culture by Jane Townes, one of the early 
Quaker emigrants, who, with her three sons, caine over 
to Friend "William Penn's colony soon after the great 
founder's landing. The husband and father died on ship- 
board during the voyage to America ; but the widow, with 
genuine pluck and faith, took up the burden of colonial 
settlement, and bought a plantation which included in its 
bounds our old farm. On this spot they made their first 
dwelling ; they dug into the slope of the hill just here, 
threw out rough supports much like the props in a coal 
drift, and banked up the whole, thus making what was 
known as a 'cave. 1 Here the widow with her sons 
lived until timber could be cut from the thick woods 
that covered the, site, and hewn and builded into a log 
house. One of her descendants had this cave-stone 
erected to mark the site of what was the first home of 
a white family in this neighborhood. The present stone 
farm-house has not yet seen its first century, having 
been built A. D. 1792." 

" Well, that was a courageous woman certainly !" ex- 



INSECT TROGLODYTES. 129 

claimed the doctor, ' l and her pluck deserves a much better 
monument. However, I have no doubt she and her boys 
enjoyed their rude life quite as much as their descendants 
do these days of civilized abundance. . There is a streak 
of the nomad in most men. Where was ever the boy 
who didn't long for a Robinson Crusoe's cave ? There 
was always a fascination for me, when a lad in Ohio, 
in certain caves among the rocky masses. of the Little 
Beaver. In those days the chief charm of a fishing 
jaunt was the fire and the noon lunch in caverns or 
under jutting rocks. I am sure that I should have 
greatly enjoyed those old pioneer days, so I will waste 
no pity on the hardships of good Jane Townes. But 
I must claim the other part of your promise. Where 
are the traces of those cave-men more ancient than 
the men of the Dordogne ? lam eager to inspect 
them." 

u Not so fast, Doctor. I did, indeed, promise you a 
sight of most ancient cave dwellers, but I said not a 
word of cave-men. My troglodytes are of the spider 
world, and, see there ! Your foot has well nigh trodden 
upon the entrance to one of them." 

The Doctor started back suddenly and looked down- 
ward. I stooped at his side and pointed out a little 
structure of straw that marked the cave of a turret 
spider, Tarentula arenicola. (Fig. 44.) 

"Come, my good friend, "Icontinued. k "don your spec- 
tacles once more and join me in this search. Here is one 
of my, ancient cave-dwellers, and I warrant that its 
ancestors were here to gaze in dumb wonder at the in- 



130 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

trading cave dwelling and log cabin of the Quaker 
pioneers." 

" Ah, you rogue !" said the Doctor, as he adjusted his 
glasses, "you quite deceived me, I confess ; but I par- 
don you in advance, for I dare say that you will 
abundantly reward my curiosity, although in another 
direction."' 

The object to which our attention wait, directed re- 
sembled in miniature a chimney of mud and sticks, such 
as one may see upon log huts on the frontier. A circu- 
lar opening in the ground an inch wide was sunk 
downward quite out of sight. Around this on the 
surface was built, in the form of an irregular pentagon, 
a little chimney or turret, composed chiefly of bits of 
grass-straw and stalks of weeds, crossed at the corners 
and raised one above another to the height of nearly 
two inches. The inside of this tube was lined with a 
thin sheeting of silken web which was carried for a 
little distance below the surface. Particles of earth 
were intermingled with the sticks. 

" Do you mean to say," exclaimed the Doctor, " that 
this is the nest of a spider ?" 

" You shall see for yourself," I answered, ." for I have 
brought Avith me the means for exploring the interior 
of our cave-dweller's home. But first we may as well 
save this part of the nest as a specimen for our cabinet." 

I filled the turret with a tuft of cotton to prevent it from 
breaking up under the handling, then carefully cut it 
away from the surface with a large knife and laid it in 
a paper box. Next I quite filled up the hole, which 



INSECT TROGLODYTES. 



131 




FIG, 44. — TURRET SPIDER'S NEST AND TOWEB. 



extended ten inches straight downward, with cotton, 
which was gently pushed clown with a stick. 

tw Pray why do you do that ?"" asked the Doctor. 

" I have three purposes : one is to prevent the broken 
soil from falling in upon the spider who is down there 
at the bottom of the cave ; another is to mark the 



J32 TENANTS OF AN ORD FARM. 

track of the tube as the earth is cut away ; a third to 
prevent the spider's escape. 

" By the way, I was once led upon au interesting ob- 
servation by this mode of filling up the burrows. 
Having a desire to keep a .turret spider under close 
study, I cut out a burrow and took it home, preserved 
entire in the midst of the sod in which it had been dug. 
The spider was shut in by the cotton forced into the 
opeuing, and was kept in by a cotton plug in the lower 
part of the tube. Having snugly domiciled the exile 
by inserting her nest into fresh soil and sod packed in a 
half-keg, I removed the cotton from the upper part of 
the burrow, and left the occupant to work according to 
her own fancy. I was compelled to be absent for three 
days, and when I left home the spider was engaged in 
pulling out the cotton plug which had been placed in 
the bottom of the tube. Several pellets were already 
scattered around the turret. On my return I found the 
tower strangely transformed ; the whole interior was 
lined with the cotton, which extended an inch or more 
below the surface and lipped over the top-wail. This 
novel lining was laid on as smoothly as though done by 
the delicate hand of an upholsterer." 

" Very strange, indeed !" the Doctor exclaimed. "A 
most admirable instinct! Although, perhaps, it is 
hardly after the manner of what I have thought an in- 
stinctive act to be. Certainly there could have been no 
hereditary tendency to such a use of the cotton fibre. 
What think you?" 

"Undoubtedly our spider had come upon new expe-* 



INSECT TROGLODYTES. 



133 



% 



/4^|l 







. FIG. 45. — COTTON-LINED NEST OF TURRET-SPIDER. 

rience and readily adapted herself to it. It is impossi- 
ble to think that she ever before had knowledge of 
cotton and its uses for wadding. Her first purpose was 
evidently to remove the material from her burrow ; but 
by the contact of her highly sensitive feet and mouth 
organs with the soft fabric the suggestion was raised that 
it might be utilized for lining her nest instead of silk. Or 
perhaps we may say that the sensation produced by 
handling the soft cotton started a train of associations 
that led the animal to deal with a substance quite 
foreign to her precisely as she habitually deals with the 
silk which she secretes. Whether the two theories do 
not amount, to the same in the end is a point which I 



134 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

will not attempt to decide. We are verging upon the 
deep and somewhat strange waters of animal meta- 
physics, and perhaps had better not venture further." 

" At all events," said the Doctor, with some warmth, 
as though he were beating down an old adversary in his 
own thought, ' ; I will never again say that a spider 
doesn't think I Here certainly is an order of mentalism 
which seems to differ from human thinking more in 
degree than in kind." 

In the meantime I plied the spade carefully, until at 
last the bottom of the tube was reached. 

" There she is !" cried the Doctor, who keenly watched 
the digging. 

A brown head emerged from a mass of dust-covered 
cotton, followed by the legs and body of a large spider. 
The body was an inch in length, but the eight long, ex- 
panded legs gave one the impression of greater size. 
The specimen was a female of a velvety brown color, 
marked with light gray along the back. 

" Yes-, there she is," I responded; "this is one of 
my troglodytes ; and now you have seen for yourself 
that this pretty nest in my box was really made by a 
spider." 

" It is certainly true, although it passes all my notions 
of spider-craft. What is the use of this cave-nest ?" 

u I cannot answer very confidently. The deep bur- 
row is at least a winter home, and, no doubt, a good 
one, since the temperature within it is much higher 
than at the surface. Moreover, it affords protection 
against many enemies, from whom the animal finds 



INSECT TROGLODYTES. 135 

ready refuge by running into its stronghold. The 
object of the chimney is le^s apparent. It probably 
serves as a watch-tower from which the keeper may 
observe the approach of her enemies and her prey. 
Her favorite position is a crouching posture on the 
summit of her turret, with legs drawn up and head 
peering over the edge as though on guard. A little 
elevation of this sort is a great temptation to grass- 
hoppers and other insects, who are prone to alight upon 
or crawl up it, and thus become easy victims to the 
vigilant tower-keeper. On the other hand, if an3'thing 
approaches that threatens harm, the wary sentinel re- 
treats to the depths of her cavern. I suppose that the 
turret serves a further use in protecting the interior 
from being flooded by the water that gathers upon the 
surface after rain." 

" Have you any knowledge of the mode of building 
practiced by this little architect ?" 

" Yes, I have kept individuals in confinement and 
watched their habits, but the best account of their 
behavior has been given by my friend, Mrs. Mary Treat. 
When the burrow is about two inches deep the spider 
begins upon her tower. A stick is placed at the edge 
of the tube,, and lashed down with a strong thread. 
Another is laid in similar .position until the margin is 
surrounded by a four or five-sided foundation. The 
builder then descends to the bottom of her tube and 
brings up pellets of earth which she places atop, and 
on the inside of the sticks, pressing them down with hsr 
body as she passes around the circle. Then follow 



136 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

other layers of sticks alternated with pellets of clay until 
the tower is raised sometimes as high as two and a half 
inches above the ground. The inner surface is smoothed 
and lined with silk, and the turret is complete. While 
excavating the burrow the bits of clay as they are bitten 
loose are compressed within the mandibles into small 
balls, carried to the top and shot off from the walls 
with sufficient force to carry them a foot distant." 

Our spider had now crawled out from beneath the 
dusty ruins of her home, and sat motionless upon a 
heap of dirt. The Doctor's eye caught sight of a 
spherical egg-sac as large as a grape which was lashed 
to the spinning-tubes at the end of the abdomen, and 
an explanation was asked. 

" This species, like most of her family, carries her 
cradle, as you see. She rarely, if ever, abandons it, 
and will give up her life in its defence with the utmost 
abandon. For at least two months she has dragged 
that silken ball around with her, while the tin)' eggs 
first placed within it have grown until they are now 
just ready to burst forth as baby spiderlings. If we 
capture this mother, and place her in a jar, we shall, 
in a few days, see a transformation. The egg-sac will 
have opened, a. brood of a hundred or more younglings 
will have issued forth, and have swarmed upon their 
mother, hanging in a close cluster upon her abdomen, 
which will be quite hidden by the wriggling mass of 
wee bodies and legs. The mother will, of course, seem 
greatly enlarged by this addition, and will present the 
appearance of a horrible, hairy, nondescript monster. 



INSECT TROGLODYTES. \i', 



w 



<s: 




FIG. 46. — A MOTHER SPIDER AND HER BROOD. 

She may be seen thus hanging in her favorite posture 
upon the outer wall of her tower, her abdomen all 
a -quiver with the crowded life of her brood." (Fig. 46.) 
"Dear me I 1 ' said the Doctor, laughing, " what a 
destiny that must be ! Surely, that is a progeny suf- 
ficient to satisfy the cravings of the most capacious 
mother-love. One might fancy that the Mother Goose 
rhymster had this spider matron in view in the famous 
nursery couplet : 

: There was an Old Woman who lived in a shoe, 
And she had so many children she didn't know what to do.' " 

"The turret spider," I continued, "seems to know 

what to do with her children. During the first three 

weeks the little things are piled all over the head and 

back of the- mother, often appearing to blind her. Thev 

9 




138 



INSECT TROGLODYTES. 139 

seem ambitious to reach, the highest point, and jostle 
and crowd one another in their efforts to be at the top 
of the heap. This the mother patiently endures for a 
time, but when the younglings thicken too closely over 
her eyes she reaches up her forelegs, scrapes off an arm- 
ful and holds them straight in front of her as if discip- 
lining them by reproving looks. Soon she releases 
them by slowly opening her legs, whereupon the spider- 
lings quietly take their places around the edge of the 
tower, where the}- usually remain until the mother goes 
below, when they all follow. Upon her reappearance 
they are again mounted upon her back." 

"How do the little fellows keep their position so 
firmly ?" asked the Doctor. 

"The body of the mother is covered with soft hairs 
to which her babies hold by their feet, or fasten them- 
selves by delicate threads .spun from their spinuarets. 
When they are two weeks old the}' " molt " or cast their 
skin, a process which spiders undergo several times un- 
til they are quite mature. The molting of the young 
turret spiders is a curious sight. They stretch a line 
across the back of the mother's abdomen to which the}' 
fasten themselves. Then they begin to undress. The 
skin cracks all around the chest — the cepholotorax — 
which is held by the front edge alone ; next the abdo- 
men is freed, and then comes the struggle to free the 
legs. By dint of regular pullings, repeated at short 
intervals, the old skin is cast in fifteen minutes or more, 
and the spiderling appears undressed but quite ex- 
hausted. It lies limp, pallid and motionless for a little 



140 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

while and then gradually resumes its activity. Some- 
times the mother's back will be covered with taut lines 
decorated with these cast-off molts, reminding one of 
the dainty pieces of a baby's toilet hung up to dvy in 
the laundry." 

"How long does the mother keep her brood around 
her ?" asked the Doctor. 

"When the young are about three weeks old a few 
begin to leave the maternal care. They have been long- 
enough 'tied to mother's apron string,' to quote a 
common saying that has quite as much fact as figure in 
it for our spiderlings. They climb up a grass stalk, then 
venture upon a higher weed or shrub, thence they 
reach the trunk of a tree, and, grown bolder now, climb 
out upon the branches. After another week the mother 
shows a disposition to send her brood adrift. The time 
for ' weaning ' has come, and occasionally a little one 
is reminded of this fact b}' being tossed away into the 
grass. A bright, warm autumn day follows, and then 
the entire brood, moved by' the resistless instinct of 
migration, leave their mother without further ceremony, 
run here and there upon plants and trees, or are dis- 
tributed over the vicinity by aeronautic flight, that 
strange habit so strongly analogous to ballooning as 
practiced by men. Later in the season or in the spring 
one will find a number of tiny burrows, the very coun- 
terpart of the mother's, in which the young have set up 
housekeeping, or cave-keeping rather, for themselves. 
As they grow in size the burrows are enlarged, until at 
last the babes have themselves become mothers and re- 



US SECT TROGLODYTES. 



^1 




FIG. 48. — SEASIDE RESIDENCE OF TURRET SPIDER. 



peat among their own broods the maternal instincts 
that fostered their baby days." 

u There is an interesting variation in Arenicola's 
mode of building her turret which I have often ob- 
served along the Xew Jersey seaboard. Around the 
edge of the burrow, which is always driven straight 
downward by the spider, is heaped a foundation of 
tiny pebbles. These are usually white quartz, gathered 
from the surrounding sand. Upon this foundation the 



142 t TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

tower is erected, and the varied material gives a pretty 
effect. 

" If one carefully dig the sand away from the burrow, 
having first taken the precaution to drop a twig within 
it (see Fig. 48), he may expose the interior. The sandy 
walls of the excavation appear to be kept in place by a 
slight secretion of silk which melts into the interstices 
of the sand, and has sufficient consistency to maintain 
it intact. Supported thus upon the twig the wall looks 
something like the leg of a wee lace stocking dusted 
over with sand. I have succeeded in exposing unbroken 
fully two inches of this interior coating; but it required 
the most dainty manipulation." 

"Truly," observed the Doctor, patting the ground 
with his cane meditatively the meanwhile, "the 'see- 
ing eye' is a rare gift. Now, I have wandered and 
loitered over those seashore sands many scores of times 
and never saw such an object as that. I think that my 
next vacation jaunt will bring me a fresh enjoyment in 
looking up these troglodytic friends of yours." 



CHAPTER IX. 

CAYE-DWELLING INSECTS. 

" Hello, Harry ! The Doctor wants to -see a bum- 
ble-bees' nest. Can you find one for him ?" 

Harry, who was crossing the field within easy call, 
ran eagerly toward us at this greeting, for the very 
name bumble-bee has a stirring influence upon a lad 
who knows anything of the country. If there were a 
"bum-bees' " nest anywhere in the neighborhood I knew 
that Harry might be trusted to point out the locality ; 
and accordingly the lad was soon at our side, his 
fac°, aglow with a sense of importance and anticipated 
pleasure. 

The Doctor, however, was taken somewhat by sur- 
prise. u My dear sir," he cried, "I am not the least 
aware of any such want as you have expressed. On 
the contrary, I heartily excuse Harry from all service 
in the way of humble-bee hunting." 

" J^o, no, Doctor. You cannot escape so easily. You 
are committed to a search after the most ancient cave- 
dwellers, and it would be too bad to omit such distin- 
guished representatives as the humble-bee. Here is 
Harry quite-ready to encourage your antiquarian tastes, 
and he would be disappointed now were you to turn 

back. Can vou lead us to a bumble-bees 1 nest, Harry?" 

143 



144 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

" Yes, sir," answered the boy with alacrity. " There's 
one just beyond here in a big tussock on the edge of the 
swamp-grass. -Joe and I found it las' July, when they 
#as a-mowin'." 

" And resisted the temptation to clean it out ? That 
tvas a marvelous example of self-denial for a growing 
boy. How did it happen ?" 

. " We did mean to fight it, and was jest ge-ttin' ready 
when father 'lowed ef we 'd wait till frost come Ave 'd 
have the nest without gettin' stung. But that wasn't 
the reason zactly," added the lad. c ' I don't mind bee- 
stings much, though some folks 's mighty feard uv 'em. 
Here 's the nest, sir." 

Harry had well described the site, which is indeed a 
favorite one for these insects, who love to burrow in 
moist, low meadow land, near a great tuft of grass or 
tussock. Yet they give themselves a good deal of lati- 
tude in the choice of their subterranean homes, and 
often affect a grassy bank or lawn. 

Harry pushed aside the grass and showed us the 
entrance or gate to the cave — a round hole half an inch 
in diameter. The droning buzz-z-zz ! of a bee's wings 
warned us that one of the workers approached her nest. 
She circled around us cautiously and somewhat ex- 
citedly. There was a. growing sharpness in the note of 
her hum which warned the Doctor to start back and 
pull the limp brim of his hat about his ears. Harry 
laughed, and sat still, simply withdrawing his hand 
from the opening. The bee gradually narrowed the 
circles of her flight, and after a few turns above the 



CA VE-I) WELLING INSECTS. 



H5 




FIG. 49. — ENTEANCE TO THE 
HUMBLE-BEE'S CAVE. 



gate, as is her habit when 

home-coming, settled upon 

the ground and crept down 

the tube with a final buzz 

of satisfaction. She had thus unwittingly identified 

the site for us and confirmed Harry's report. 

(Fig. 49.) 

" ISTow, Doctor," I remarked. " here is an oppor- 



146 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

tunity to prove your devotion to science. Our little 
cave-dwellers are wont to defend their household 
treasures with some acrimony." 

"My dear fellow," said the clergyman, "I pray you 
have me excused ! I am too old and clumsy to engage 
in a battle with bumble-bees. If you stir up those 
mettlesome little beasts I shall certainly run away. 
Good morning !" 

" Hold, hold, Doctor ! I promise to spare you. But 
how shall we learn the mysteries of this cavern-home 
unless we take some risks in the work of exploration ? 
Really, I am anxious, on my own behalf, to see the 
interior of a bee's nest ; for I haven't seen one since my 
boyhood, and in those days there was rather too much 
excitement in the assault and defense to permit a care- 
ful study of the architecture." 

Here Harry spoke. "I know where they're two 
other nests inside the yard, back of the house. Pap 
was telling Joe and me t' other day that we 'd hav' tuh 
clean 'em out anyhow, sence the folks 'ad come. So ef 
you 'd like to see a nest we '11 open one now for you, 
jest as leav's not." 

"Ah, that will do finely," I said; "so you see, 
Doctor, we shall get the spoils of victory without the 
perils of war." 

"True enough," was the reply. "But isn't that 
very much like the patriotism of the great showman, 
Artemas Ward, who exhibited such self-sacrificing 
willingness to have all his wife's relations go to war ?" 

"Perhaps it is," I answered, smiling, "but we may 



CAVE-DWELLING INSECTS. 147 

trust our boys to come out of the conflict without any 
serious hurt. They are experienced hands at bee- 
nesting, I warrant. And now, if you '11 consent to 
spend the day with us, we '11 defer our cave-hunting 
until evening. What say you ?" 

The Doctor, who was quite prepared to humor my 
fancies and encourage me in these agreeable field pur- 
suits, readily consented. Therefore, dismissing Harry, 
we turned our steps homeward. 

As we walked over the moist, soft ground that skirts 
the edge of the Run. my friend noticed a ridge of loose, 
fresh earth heaved up along the low bank. " I see that 
a mole has been at work here," he remarked. 

'•Lei; us look a little more closely," I said. "The 
burrow which this ridge covers is certainly much like a 
mole's, but smaller than that animal makes. I suspect 
i:hat we are on the trail of another of our insect cave 
dwellers — the mole-cricket. Yes, it is so, and here be- 
neath this stone the burrow terminates." I turned 
over the stone, and exposed a simple opening into the 
earth. 
- u Where is the cricket ? " asked the Doctor. 

" That is more easily asked than answered; some- 
where near the bottom of his cave at this hour of the 
da}', too far down for us to reach. But if you will 
visit his burrow with me this evening, I may satisfy 
your curiosity. The mole-cricket is a nocturnal insect, 
and will hot be caught near the door of his den until 
dusk. • If one will then push a long grass stalk into the 
opening the irritated inhabitant will probably grasp it, 



148 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

and grass and cricket may be drawn out together. 
Our American species is known as the Northern 
mole-cricket (Gryllotalpa borealis), although, in fact, it 
inhabits nearly the whole of the great plains, from 
Louisiana to Massachusetts. Sometimes the bulk of 
the soil beneath the socl and stones for a rod from 
the water's edge will be found completely honey- 
combed with their burrows. They seldom penetrate to 
a depth of more than six or eight inches, rarely to a 
foot beneath the surface. The burrows are about one- 
third of an inch in diameter, entirely irregular in direc- 
tion, and often terminate abruptly. When the ground 
is hard, the burrows are brought so near the surface as 
to raise long ridges of mould, which, when dry, fre- 
quently fall in and expose the interior." 

"Does the mole-cricket chirrup like the traditional 
hearth cricket? " 

44 It does chirrup, or rather creak, but its note is dif- 
ferent, resembling the distant .sound of frogs, but some- 
what feebler. It is most frequently heard about dusk." 

" Why is the insect called a mole- cricket ?" 

" From the very fact, in part, that caused you to mis- 
take his burrow for a mole's. The general shape of 
the insect contributes to this likeness, as well as the 
strange development of the fore limbs, and the peculiar 
formation of the first pair of feet, which are not unlike 
the corresponding members of the mole. There are 
other points of resemblance which are most extraor- 
dinary. Like the mole, the mole-cricket 1 passes nearly 
the whole of its life underground, digging out long pas- 



A VE-D WEL LING fX SECTS. 



149 




OU. — GRYLLOTALPA BORFALIS — THE MOLE CRICKET 
ITS CAVE AND EGGS. 



sages by means of its spade-like limbs, and traversing 
them in search of prey. Like the mole, it is fierce and 
quarrelsome, is ready to fight with its own kind, and, 
if victorious, always tears its vanquished opponent tc 
pieces. Like the mole, it is exceedingly voracious, and 
if confined without food with several of its own species, 
the strongest will devour the Aveakest. We may close 
the analogy by saying that, like the mole, it is useful 
enough in the fields, where its tunnels form a kind of 
subsoil drainage, but is equally destructive in the gar- 
den among young plants and flowers, upon whose roots 
it feeds. The European species (Gryttotalpa vulgaris) is 
often quite a pest, but our American species has not yet 



150 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

developed such destructive habits, perhaps from lack 
of opportunity. " 

"Well, well," cried the Doctor, "I quite join you In 
declaring this a most extraordinary creature. These 
are wonderful resemblances to exist in animals so widely 
separated as a cricket and a mole — an insect and a 
vertebrate." 

"Perhaps," I suggested, thinking to draw the Doc- 
tor's theological fire, " the insect is a far-away ancestor 
of the vertebrate ? At least, an evolutionist might 
have no difficulty in accounting for such resemblances 
by some application of his theory." 

The Doctor glanced slily at me, smiled,. and answered : 
"Ah! you shall not disturb my equanimity so. Evo- 
lution is no theological bete noir to me. Isot that I be- 
lieve it, at all ; on the contrary, I think it is yet an un- 
proved hypothesis. But, considered as a method oj 
creation simply, I am willing to leave it wholly in the 
hands of the naturalists and philosophers. Of course, 
that materialistic view of evolution, which dispenses 
with a Divine Creator as the First Cause of all things, 
has no place in my thought. That is not for a moment 
to be tolerated ; but, as for the rest, why should Chris- 
tian people disturb themselves ? Science has not yet 
said her last Avord, by any means, and we can well 
afford to wait. The orily absolute condition that I 
name is, that evolutionists shall still heartily join us in 
the opening sentence of the Creed : 'I believe in God, 
the Father Almighty, Maker of Heaven and Earth.'' 
But, Mr. May field, we are not driven of necessity to 



CAVE-DWELLING INSECTS. 151 

evolutionism to account for such striking analogies in 
the animal kingdom as those between the mole and the 
mole-cricket. " 

" Indeed ! What other theory can so well satisfy the 
demands of science ?" 

" The theory which lies at the root of all Monotheism, 
viz.: the origin of all things in One Divine Mind. The 
critic will trace with reasonable certainty the literary 
remains of an ancient author by the characteristics of 
■style. Amid a number of claimants he will separate 
the genuine products from the apochryphal by those re- 
semblances which naturally and inevitably mark the 
productions of one mind. Now, why should I not rea- 
son in this wise of the One Great Over-Mind and the 
products of His thought ? Is it strange that, if all things 
are created by the Almighty God, there should be trace- 
able amongst them even through an infinite wealth and 
variety of wisdom, taste and skill, a manifest likeness ? 
Nay, it would be strange were it otherwise. Belief in 
the Unity of God the Creator leads logically to such 
analogies as we have been speaking of. Sometimes, as 
with our mole and cricket, the analogies lie close to the 
surface ; again, they run deeper, or are wholly hidden 
even from star-eyed science. . But, in any case, I 
cannot see, from this stand-point, that the theory of 
evolution has any advantage over a theory of special 
creations. However, there is no need that the two 
theories should fall to blows. Let us have Patience and 
Charity. There is a deal too much dogmatism on both 
sides. Let us wait and look further. Truth is one and 



i52 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

of One. By and by we shall find the links that bind 
all natural facts into one chain, and that shall lead — I 
never for a moment doubt it ! — over whatever trail, by 
whatever method, straight to the Hand Divine. 7 ' 

The face of the good old man had kindled under the 
play of thought. He had brushed back his felt hat, as 
was his habit in animated conversation, until his broad 
brow was fully exposed. He walked on, erect and 
vigorous, punctuating his periods by sounding thumps 
upon the path with his gold-headed cane (another pecu- 
liar habit), keeping his eyes the while well aloft as 
though communing with the clouds. Gradually the 
glance fell until it reached the plane of my face, when, 
With a bright smile, the Doctor added : 

■' There, you have tempted me to express sentiments 
that I rarely trouble others with. You may put it 
down as one more of the wonders of that extraordinary 
mole-cricket that he should thus lift the flood-gate of 
garrulity from an old man's lips." 

"My- dear Doctor," I said, "I thank you from my 
heart for this expression of your views. It would be 
well for all concerned were such reasonable and chari- 
table opinions more commonly held and frequently 
uttered." 

"Now for the bumble-bees !" 

The farm-house awoke from the profound stillness 
which, according to the law of the Mistress, daily in- 
vited to a refreshing afternoon nap. Abby and the 
children were home from school, Hugh and Joe were in 
early from the field, and I summoned all hands to the 



CAVE-DWELLING INSECTS. 



158 




PIG. 51. — QUEEN, MALE, WORKERS MINOR AND MAJOR OF 
HUMBLE-BEE (BOMBUS VIRGINICUS.) 



raid upon the bees. The nest was found upon the lawn, 
just beyond the clump of shade trees where the yard 
begins to roll downward toward the meadow and the 
spring-house run. One of the gates opened directly into 
the sod by a circular hole, rimmed around about by ex- 
cavated soil. ■ It was prettily embowered beneath the 
tufts of orchard grass and sprigs of red clover, which 
indeed wholly concealed it. 

"How cunningly this is hidden!" exclaimed the 
Schoohna'ain ; "pray, how did you happen to find it, 
Harry ?'■'' 

" I jest stumbled on it, ma'am. I stopped here one 



154 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

day, and while moving my feet back and forth, firs 1 
thing I knovved two or three bees came up out 'v the 
grass and began buzzin' 'round me. I knowed what 
that meant, stooped down and found this hole." 

"So?" said the Schoolma'am. " The bees then were 
themselves the tell-tales and betrayed their own nest. 
They hadn't imbibed the peaceful principles of the old 
Friendly proprietor, or they might have escaped this* 
impending doom. Heigh-ho!" 

" Very likely, Miss Abby. But we can moralize by 
and by. Where 's your other nest, Harry ?" 

It was pointed out at the edge of an uncovered hot- 
bed which had been set into the bank about eight feet 
from the pretty gate which we had just examined and 
admired. A hole as big as one's fist penetrated the 
bank at the side of the bed-frame, into which several 
bees entered while we looked. The first opening was 
evidently the natural architecture of the bees, but 
this seemed to be the burrow of a mole which had 
been utilized by the insects. We decided to begin 
operations at the first gate. The party gathered around 
at various distances, regulated by the various degrees of 
respect entertained for the acculeate ability of the 
bees. 

"Hello, Joe, bring on the jug!" called Harry; 
"we 're all ready." 

" Jug ? What's that for ?" asked Abby. 

"Dear knows!" said the Mistress; "but the boys 
have been exploring the premises for a black jug — it 
must be a black one, they said, or it wouldn't answer." 



CA VE-D WELLING INSECTS. 155 

The lads had evidently succeeded in their search, for 
Joe appeared, carrying a black jug, half filled with 
water. He laid it on its side, with the mouth close to 
the gate. 

" All right !" he said. " Go ahead now. I warrant 
the bees won't hurt us very much." 

I thrust a tuft of cotton into the opening, and then 
cut out the sod around, thus preserving intact the natu- 
ral gate to the nest. When this was removed, and the 
gallery beneath uncovered, the mystery of Joe's jug 
was immediately explained. Cue after another a troop 
of yellow-backed bees issued forth, mounted on wing 
with angry whirr, coursed a few narrow circles, then 
dived into the open mouth of the jug, where they were 
immersed in the contents. 

"Oh, Joe,"" exclaimed Abby, "this is a base mode 
of warfare. It equals the wickedness of our white an- 
cestors, who have literally exterminated the wild 
aborigines by the enticements of the jug. Fie ! fie ! 
Why don't you fight them like a man ?" (Fig. 52.) 

"Hugh Bond declared these bees trespassers," cried 
the Mistress from the safe shelter of a neighboring pine 
tree, "and I have heard him affirm that all trespassers 
ought to be 'jugged.' Don't mind what Miss Abby 
says, Joe." 

"Alas!" said the Doctor, also inclined to draw a 
moral from the novel proceeding, " how often is Indus- 
try, symbolized by the busy bee, utterly wrecked, and 
its fruits desolated by the perfidious habit of which 
the 'jug' is the emblem !" 




150 



CAVJ2-DWELL1M INSECTS.. 157 

"Doctor, Doctor !" called the Mistress, "how dare 
you ? That "s my vinegar jug !" 

"Pardon, madam," said the Dominie, "I meant no 
harm ; but I perceive that it is true, as our old writing- 
copy affirmed, ' Comparisons are odious.' " 

In the meantime, quite unmolested by the bees, we 
had followed the underground gallery, which soon 
widened into what was evidently the burrow of a mole. 
It led in a zigzag course toward the hot-bed frame. 

"Why, Harry," I said, "your two nests will turn 
out to be one, I think." 

So it proved. After tracing the burrow for a dis- 
tance of five feet, we came upon the nest. It lay in a 
cavity seven or eight inches in diameter, the floor of 
which was eighteen inches from the surface. 

As the yellow cells of the bumble-bees showed amid 
the torn shreds of their gray mattress of curled hay, 
the boys cried out : 

"Here it is! Here it is !" 

The Mistress left the shelter of her tree, with head 
wrapped in a scarf; the Doctor pulled his hat-brims 
around his ears ; Julia threw up her check apron until 
it wholly enveloped her head ; Abby wore her hat, and 
had twisted a. kerchief around her neck. What they 
saw through the broken wall of the cave was a round 
bundle of dr}^ chopped grass, about the bigness of one's 
head, lying on the floor, sprinkled with the yellow soil 
fallen from our digging. 

" Look out now !" 

Half a dozen bees rose from the pulverized ruins of 



158 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM, 

their home ; shook off the dust from their wings, and 
darted toward the group of curious observers. There 
were screams and a quick dispersion. The Mistress 
and Jenny ran away without ceremony. Abby took a 
step or two backward, and then stood her ground, tak- 
ing the precaution, however, to clasp her skirts tightly, 
while her head rapidly oscillated in the vain endeavor 
to follow the insects' flight. The Doctor retreated with 
some show of dignity, as became his cloth, but hugged 
his cheeks tightly with his soft hat. Uuluckily for him, 
black seemed to affect humble-bees as red does a bull, 
and several of the irate workers, attracted by the 
clerical sable, charged straight upon the dominie. This 
was too much, even for his dignity; so, standing no 
further ceremony, he turned and tied, holding his hat 
down with one hand, and with the other wildly beat- 
ing a handkerchief about his face. The scene was 
laughable enough, but the boys ran to the rescue. The 
bees abandoned the Doctor and fell upon them, but 
were soon beaten down by the paddles with which they 
were armed. 

The danger was over, and the party returned with 
much merriment to the cave. The nest was taken out, 
laid upon a cloth, and the swathing of curled hay 
removed. This exposed a spherical cluster of oval- 
shaped cells about four inches in diameter. The cells 
were of various sizes ; the largest not more than three- 
fourths of an inch long and one-half inch thick. They 
were made of thin yellow wax covered with brown 
blotches, and were so tightly fastened to one another 



CAVE-D WELLING INSECTS. » 159 

L 




FIG. 53. — CAVE AND CELL-NEST OP HUMBLE-BEES. 

by wax cement that they were separated with difficult}'. 
Some of the cells were open ; most of them were closed. 
Of the latter some were filled with a number of small 
yellowish-white grubs of various sizes ; others contained 
but one grub each; a large white one, which was 
doubtless a young princess in training for future qneen- 
ship. 



180 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

Here and there was a cell filled with yellow wax; 
and there were several small clusters of dirty gray cells 
filled with honey. 

"Is that all there is of the nest?" asked Abby. 
Really, I am disappointed. This doesn't compare with 
the honey-bee's comb for beauty of structure." 

" This is all ; certainly the architecture cannot com- 
pare with that of the honey-bee, but there is much to 
admire in it after all. The humble-bee is not a child of 
civilization, and its ruder craft is very well adapted to 
its wilder life." 

"Look at those cunning little bees," said the Mis- 
tress, " crawling over the cells. I suppose they are 
lately hatched and half-grown, and they don't seem 
to shun you at all ! why is that ?" 

"You forget," I answered, "that there is no such 
thing as a half-grown bee except in the larval or 
grub condition. The larvae feed enormously, but when 
they pass into the pupal state and transform, they come 
out into the imago or perfect insect, full grown. There 
is no increase in stature after that. These white- 
headed forms which you have called ' half-grown ' are 
the small workers or minors. These, a size or two 
larger, are the male bees or drones. There is nothing 
very courageous in handling them, for they are stingless. 
Xature has left them absolutely without means of of- 
fense and defense." 

" Look at them !" cried Abby, indignantly. " They 
are crawling around and around over the broken cells 
lapping up the honey ! Stingless, hey ? Lazy, greedy 



CAVE-DWELLING INSECTS. 



161 



Q^-^^ 




X^O' 



FIG. 54.— THE DUDE OF THE BEEHIVE — POOR DRONE ! 

drones ! See, too, how bright, clean and pretty they 
look — a sort of apiarian ' dude,' I do declare !" 

" Come, come, Miss Abb} T ," said the Doctor. " Every- 
thing after its kind, you know. Nature makes no mis- 
takes even in the creation of drones. 



CHAPTEB X. 

THE HISTORY OF A HUMBLE-BEE. 

" I wonder if we have killed the queen-bee ? Ah, 
no ! here she is, burrowed in the grass under the cells." 

Disturbed by my intruding finger the royal lady 
issued from her retreat, and began promenading the 
top of the cells with restless steps. She was at least 
three times as large as the nurse-bees, being fully an 
inch and a quarter long. She was an object of great 
interest to all our party, and as she at once set to work, 
quite oblivious of our presence, to straighten out the 
damage done to the cells, she received numerous com- 
pliments whose edge was greatly sharpened against the 
disparaging contrast with the unfortunate drones. 

"We are fortunate in possessing the queen," I re- 
marked. "We can now hive our colony and observe 
the bees' habits more closely." 

" Couldn't you have done that without the queen ?" 
asked Abby. 

"The colony might have kept together for a little 

while united in care of the grubs ; but the queen seems 

to be the bond of union with these insects. The whole 

life of the family centers upon the rearing and care of 

the young, to which duties the queen-mother is very 

necessary. Besides, I fancy that her experience, 
162 



THE HIST OUT OF A HUMBLE-BEE. 163 

energy and aid are important- factors in leadership and 
labor for the mechanical duties of the family, such as 
excavating and upholstering the cave and building the 
cells. But you shall have a chance to observe these 
matters for yourselves presently." 

A rough hive was soon made as follows : One side of 
a small packing-box was filled with loose sods cut out 
in digging for the nest ; the other side was partly rilled 
with soil, on which the cluster of cells was laid in the 
midst of its swathing of curled hay. A large pane of 
glass was laid atop of this, leaving openings for the 
bees to escape into the air. The hive was placed near 
the original site of the nest, and we stationed ourselves 
close by to watch. As the afternoon was now well ad- 
vanced some of the worker bees were coming home. 
They were utterly confused at not finding the gate of 
iheir nest, flew round and round, settled here and there 
in vain search and rose again to resume their restless 
circles. Not one entered the box until I finally re- 
moved the glass. In a few minutes thereafter half a 
dozen large workers, with the little bags upon their 
legs laden with yellow pollen, dropped into the nest and 
settled down beneath the cells without any sign appar- 
ent to us of excitement or surprise. 

Meanwhile, however, the queen was laboring with vast 
energy. She seized bits and bunches of the upholstery 
in her mandibles, and pulled and pushed with her feet 
with the intention of burying the cells. Small workers, 
nurses or '-minor workers," about half the size of the 
queen, who differed from the major workers in size, 



164 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

being at least one-third smaller, followed the lead of 
the queen. There were few of them left, but they 
worked energetically. Then the big workers caught 
the infection. With the pollen still clinging to their legs, 
they laid heartily hold of the . upholstery and dragged 
away along with the rest. They burrowed under the 
mass, and worked from beneath, pushing up the pliable 
fibres, pulling and tugging, scratching and kicking, the 
whole heap all the while gradually shifting toward and 
gathering around the cells. 

" Look at that bee !" said Abby. " What is it doing 
now ?" 

A large worker had climbed upon the fresh cut edge 
of the sods that filled one side of the box. It seized 
bits of soil with its jaws and cast down pellets from the 
slope ; it grasped the tine rootlets that everywhere in- 
terlaced the sod and bit at them with great fury. 

" What can the creature mean ? Is it insane with 
despair over the ruin of its home ? Look ! there goes 
another 'one. It, too, has been seized with the rabies." 

A second bee had mounted the sod wall, and seizing 
upon the soil, cut out pellets with its mandibles until 
its head was buried. In went the short fore-feet, with 
which the insect dug like a dog in a rabbit-burrow. I 
took out my watch to time the insect miner, and in less 
than two minutes it had buried its entire body in the 
hole. (Fig. 55.) 

"Dear me!" exclaimed the Mistress. "There is 
energy for you ! That is certainly mining extraordinary. 
A Lehigh coal-digger or a Leadville silver-miner might 



THE HISTORY OF A HUMBLE-BEE. 



165 




FIG. 55. — HUMBLE-BEE UPHOLSTERY — WORKER BURROWING FOR 
ROOTLETS, AND QUEEX COVERING HER XE^T. FROM NATURE. 



well envy .such force and skill as these. What a pity it 
should be so ill employed, for this work seems utterly 
without purpose ; i> it so ?" 

"• TVait a while." I answered. "Patience and watch- 
fulness solve many mysteries in the behavior of nature. 
I dare say we shall by-and-by find some reasonable 
issue to this work/' 

So it proved ; for before the evening ended the 
mystery was disclosed. We discovered that the object 
of the bees was the garnering of the fine roots running 
through the sod. These were pulled out in quantities, 
raked down the slope by the hind feet, and added to the 
mass of upholstery. Xext morning when I visited my 
hive I found the cells quite covered ; the summit of the 



266 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

conical moundlet thus formed was composed of fine 
fibres of the excavated rootlets, while the edges of the 
sod were stripped of the same. Cells, larvae, drones and 
queen were quite out of sight, buried and domiciled 
within the grassy mattress that bunched out above 
them. Here and there workers would push out their 
black heads from the mound, like boys playing hide-and- 
seek in a hay-mow, and pull them back again. Others 
would slowly scramble forth and busy themselves at 
tucking up the tufts of upholstery, or if my approach 
had been ungentle, would rise like alarmed sentinels 
and hum around the miniature hay-cock that held the 
treasures of their home. At several places in the mound 
the openings through which these bees came were well 
nigh formed into regular tubular gates by the compact- 
ing of the fibre. 

"Come," said the Doctor, as we sat on the porch 
after tea, enjoying the soft autumn evening, "we ought 
to round out our bee-hunting with the story of how a 
nest is founded. What say you, Mr. May field ?" " 

"I am quite at your service, and the story is not 
long, though somewhat curious. At the end of fall 
nearly all the humble-bees die. The males invariably 
perish, but one or two of the females or young queens 
survive, and pass the winter in a state of hibernation. 
In early spring the queen awakes from her winter's 
sleep beneath the moss or leaves, or in deserted nests, 
or sheltered spots, such as hollow trees or hay-stacks. 

" She may then be seen prowling above the ground, 
settling here and there, and flying off again with a 



THE HISTORY OF A HUMBLE-BEE. 



1137 




FIG. 56. — MATTRESS-MAKING. — " TUCKING UP THE TUFTS OF 
UPHOLSTERY." 



monotonous, steady hum. Her secretiveness at this time 
is immensely developed, and the slightest suspicion of 
being watched will send her far off with an eager, angry 
flight. She will never dig an inch of soil as long as she 
sees any suspicious object, and will often make her way 
under a tuft of herbage, and remain there concealed 
until she fancies that danger has passed. 

"Her resting place is frequently selected in the 
abandoned nest of a field mouse ; sometimes beneath an 
old stump ; sometimes, as with our nest, she sinks a : 
tube directly into the sod, and avails herself of the ' 
burrow of a mole, either before or after, to secure 
entrance and exit to and from the cave which she digs. ' 



168 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

Immediately she collects a small amount of pollen 
mixed with honey, and in this deposits from seven to 
fourteen eggs, gradually adding to the pollen mass until 
the first brood is hatched. 

"She does not wait for one brood to be hatched before 
laying the eggs for a second. The eggs are laid in con- 
tact with each other, in one cavity of the mass of pollen 
with a part of which they are slightly covered. As 
soon as the larvae are capable of motion and commence 
feeding they eat the pollen, by which they are sur- 
rounded, and, gradually separating, push their way in 
various directions. Eating as they move, and increas- 
ing in size quite rapidly, they soon make large cavities 
in the pollen mass. When they have attained their full 
size they spin a silken wall about them, which is covered 
by the old bees (after the first brood has matured) with 
a thin layer of wax, which soon becomes hard, forming 
the cells which we saw. The larvae now gradually 
attain the pupa stage, and remain inactive until theii 
development. They then cut their way out, and are 
ready to assume their several duties and stations as 
workers, males or queens. As the colony grows the 
nest is rapidly enlarged, until in the early fall it has 
grown to the size which we saw. 

" In which estate." suggested Abby, " they are ready 
for the final and chief end of beehood — to yield a mo- 
mentary pleasure to a destructive boy armed with jugs, 
paddles and wisps of hay." 

" Or," I added, " to gratify the curiosity of a raiding 
naturalist and his friends." 



THE HIS TOBY OF A HUMBLE-BEE. 169 

" Well answered, Miss Abby," said the Doctor, "for 
you and I are partie&ps criminis with the boys and the 
naturalist, and are estopped from all complaint. Why 
is it that the humble-bee is such an Ishmaelite among 
the insects ?" 

"But is he an Ishmaelite?" I responded. "He is 
doubtless an Adullamite — a cave-dweller and a sort of 
outlaw ; but while every man's hand appears to be 
against him, I cannot concede that his hand is against 
every man. He is a peaceful, well-nigh harmless fel- 
low, and would do little damage were he let alone. 
Wlien the scythe or mowing-machine rushes over his 
nest in the meadow-grass at hay-harvest, he makes a 
good deal of fuss, of course — as who would not under 
like circumstances ? Sometimes he inflicts a sting ; but 
these are not crimes sufficient to call down the univer- 
sal wrath of man. As for the few cells of honey in his 
nest, they alone would scarcely tempt even boyhood to 
the onset. It's a case of persecution, and I speak a 
good word for our wild friends — the Indians of the bee 
race. I am not even sure that the humble-bee is not 
belied as to its stinging propensity. At least I have at 
various times sat down by a nest, quietly thrust in my 
naked hand, .removed the mattress and examined the 
interior at my leisure. The bees bustled out and buzzed 
around, but I sat perfectly still and received no harm." 

" Has the humble-bee any natural enemies ?" asked 
the Doctor. 

" Thank you for the suggestion — Yes ! There is one, 
at least, whom I am glad to classify with its human 



170 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

foes — the skunk or pole-cat. It is not a very goodly 
fellowship, certainly, but that is the fact, boys and 
pole-cats are fellow-soldiers in their raids upon the 
humble-bee. The skunk hunts the nests, and tears 
them up for the sake of the larvae particularly, of which 
it is very fond. The nests of yellow-jackets, which are 
also made on the ground, are raided in the same way 
by this animal." 

"Why don't the bees sting 'em off?" asked Harry. 

" Doubtless, they do try ; but the assaults are usually 
by night when the insects are a little dazed, and before 
they can recover from their surprise the mischief is 
done. Besides, the fur jacket of the beast is a good pro- 
tection against so short a sword as a bee-sting." 

"I should think," said Abby, "that the mere 
presence of such an ill-odored animal would suffice to 
disperse such respectable creatures as bees. Faugh !" 

"But then," I answered, joining in the laugh which 
followed the Schoolma'am's closing interjection, " you 
must remember that the skunk is not always mal- 
odorous. Like some unsavory human kind, of whom I 
wot, it is by no means ill-looking, and knows how to 
conceal its obnoxious traits. The powerful perfume 
which it carries in the little pouch which nature has 
provided for that purpose, and which is the animal's 
weapon of defence, would not be used against such in- 
significant assailants p.s bees. That is used for more 
formidable enemies, as man and dogs. Besides, I have 
known very fastidious gentlewomen who could pat and 
fondle the skunk's soft coat with great pleasure." 



THE BISTORT OF A HUMBLE-BEE. 171 

"Oh, Mr. Mayfield!" cried Abby, ""iTou are surely 
joking with us ! How could they bear—" 

"Come, come, my dear." interposed the Mistress, 
who at once saw the point of my quizzing; "you quite 
forget that the fur of our unsavory friend has been 
lately much used for ladies' muffs.'" 

"I cry quarter!" exclaimed Abby, when the. merri- 
ment had subsided, "I was fairly trapped. And now, 
as I am especially interested in changing the subject, 
please tell me how the skunk manages to get at the 
bees ? If the nests are all hidden like this one just 
dug out by us, with narrow approaches several feet 
under ground, it would be a heavy task to burrow to 
them." 

"I think I kin answer that question," Hugh res- 
ponded, " fer down in the meadows, and in the tussocks 
along the stream, you commonly find 'em right on top 
uv the groun', in an old mouse nest, or a little hol- 
low half 's big as one's head. They build ther combs 
in these hollows, and cover 'em with ther little straw 
heaps, an' seem to git along right well. Uv course, the 
grass shelters 'em a good 'eal. I never seed a nest 
like this un in the yard, down ther. I think, however, 
them 's a differ t sort o' bees from these uns, ain't the}'? 
They 'pear bigger and yallerer." 

"You have observed quite accurately, Hugh. My 
friend, Mr. Ezra T. Cresson, tells me that there are 
more than forty species of humble-bee known to inhabit 
Xorth America. I have heard countrymen call the 
spocies of which you speak the swamp-bee ; its scientific 




172 



THE HISTORY OF A HUMBLE-BEE. 173 

name is probably Bombus separatus, Cresson. The spe- 
cies which we have been observing is Bombus vir- 
ginicus. 

" While speaking of the enemies of the bees, we must 
not forget to mention the field-mice, who, although they 
yield nesting material to their wild insect Mends, make 
ample reprisals by destroying the honeycombs. The 
late Mr. Darwin made a curious allusion to this fact in 
his book on the ki Origin of Species.' 1 We may infer, 
he says, as highly probable, that were the whole genus 
of humble-bees to become extinct or very rare in Eng- 
land, the heart's-ease and red clover (which they fertil- 
ize by carrying pollen from flower to flower), would 
become very rare or wholly disappear. The number of 
humble-bees in any district depends in a great degree 
on the number of field mice which destroy their combs 
and nests ; and Colonel Newman, who has long at- 
tended to the habits of humble-bees, believes that more 
than two-thirds of them are thus destroyed all over 
England. Now, the number of mice is largely de- 
pendent, as every one knows, on the number of cats. 
Colonel Newman says that near villages and small 
towns he has found the nests of humble-bees more 
numerous than elsewhere — a fact which he attributes 
to the number of cats that destroy the mice. Hence it 
is quite credible that the presence of a feline animal in 
large numbers in a district might determine, through 
the intervention first of mice and then of bees, the fre- 
quency of certain flow r ers in a district ! I do not know 
whether the above curious chain of facts holds equally 



174 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

good in America as in England ; but it probably obtains 
to some extent, at least." 

"Blessings on poor Tabby !" exclaimed the Mistress, 
stroking the sleek fur of the tine Maltese cat that lay 
purring in her lap. " Here is another to add to the list 
of your domestic virtues — we owe to you our beautiful 
red clover fields !" 

" Yes," said Abby ; " but don't forget to dispense a 
little gratitude to the poor humble-bee, who is the 
principal benefactor, after all. I shall tell these strange 
news to my farmer lads, and try to persuade them 
against persecuting so useful a friend. But the average 
schoolboy, I fear, is proof against persuasion when a 
humble-bee's nest is in question." 

"Perhaps," I suggested, "schoolboys are natural 
checks upon the undue increase of the insects, just as 
cats are upon mice. But let us take up again the con- 
struction of the bee's nest, whose description we had 
not quite completed. Hugh spoke about meadow bees 
weathering the season very well without any covering 
but the straw-heap and the overhanging herbage. 
There is something more than this. Do you notice in 
the nest which we excavated that a slight shell or 
casing at the right side of the cells was formed be- 
tween the cells and the outside upholstery ? This is 
made by spreading a coating of wax on the inside of 
the mat, which hardens around the straws and forms 
about . the cells a waterproof envelope. The mattress 
may be removed from this without breaking it, leaving 
the cells quite inclosed, by it. This is doubtless a valu- 




FIG. 58.— CURTAIN OP WAX-WORKERS (AFTER RENNIE.) 

175 



176 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

able protection against the rain. 1 ' (See Fig. 53, 
chap, ix.) 

" Where do the bees get this wax P 1 ' asked Joe. 

" A proper question, certainly ; I wonder it has not 
been asked before. The bee secretes the wax from its 
own body. On the Under side of the abdomen are six 
little flaps, not unlike pockets, the covers of which can 
be easily raised with a pin. Under these flaps is secreted 
the wax, which is produced in tin}- scales or plates, and 
ma}* be seen projecting from the flaps like little half- 
moon-shaped white line*. A scale of wax is drawn out 
from the abdominal ring by pincers fixed at the joint 
of one of the hind pair of legs, and is carried to the 
mouth. It is there worked up by the mandibles and 
tongue, and undergoes some important change. When 
secreting the wax the wax-workers of the honey-bees, 
at least, have a curious habit of hanging in a chain-like 
cluster, holding fast one another's legs. This is called 
a curtain. 

Plenty of food, quiet and warmth are necessary for 
the production of wax, and as it is secreted very 
slowly, it is extremely valuable and used with great 
economy. How wax is formed within the body of the 
bee I cannot" explain any more than I can tell how the 
liquid silk is produced within the spider's silk glands. 
The Author of Nature has endowed these creatures 
with such gifts and the power to use them — I go no 
further. But it is a wonderful substance ; soft enough, 
when warm, to be kneaded and spread like mortar, 
and hard enough when cool to bear the weight of brood 



THE HISTORY OF A HUMBLE-BEE. 171 



wim 



and honey. Moreover, it is of a texture so close that 
the honey cannot soak through the delicate walls of 
the cells, which are perfect, natural honey-pots. 

" Tell me something," said the Mistress, " of the way 
in which bees gather honey. I have often seen them 
humming around and diving into flowers, but they 
move so rapidly that I could never fairly observe their 
behavior." 

"It is done in this way : the bee has at the end of its 
face a long, hair-clad pro- 
boscis or tongue which it 
inserts into the recesses of 
flowers, brushes out the 
nectar, passes the laden 
tongue through its jaws. 
(Fig. 59) scrapes off the 
swe.'t liquid and swallows 
it. Just within the ab- 
domen the sesophagus ex- 
pands into a little sac called 
the crop or 'honey bag,' 
and into this the nectar is 
passed. If the bee wants 
to eat, it opens a minute 
valve which divides the 
crop from the stomach, 
which is just beyond it, and lets out enough to satisfy 
its hunger. As long as the valve is closed the nectar ac- 
cumulates, and when the crop is filled the bee flies home 
and regurgitates the collected sweets into one of the 




FIG. 59. — FACE OF HDMBLE- 
BEE, SHOWING TONGUE, 
(FROM NATURE.) 



178 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

honey cells. The liquid enters the crop as nectar ; it 
comes out honey — by what process is a secret, even to 
the bee 1" 

"I don't quite understand that," said Harry. 

" Then let me try to illustrate." I took from the table 
a drop tube or pipette, such as is commonly used by 
apothecaries and microscopists. It is simply a glass 
tube narrowed at one end and inserted into an india- 
rubber bulb. Pressing the bulb between finger and 
thumb, I plunged the tip into a tumbler of water, which 
as the pressure was removed rushed in and filled the 
pipe. "Observe now what happens," I said, holding 
aloft the charged pipette ; " when I press upon this bulb 
every movement of my thumb and finger forces a drop 
of the liquid to gather at the nozzle of the pipette and 
finally to drip away. Do }^ou understand how that 
happens. Harry?" 

"Yes, sir, I think I do," rejoined the lad. "Wen 
you sqeezes agin' the rubber bulb it presses on the air 
inside, and that pushes agin the water in the pipe and 
forces it out of the nozzle." 

" That's quite plain ; is it ?" 

"Yes, sir ; quite." 

" Very well, then ; let us suppose that this nozzle is 
the bee's mouth ; this glass tube the bee's sesophagus, 
through which the nectar passes into this rubber bulb, 
which we will call, if you please, the honey-crop. Xovv 
our bee has a full crop and wants to get it emptied into , 
the honey-cell. All she has to do is to squeeze the crop 
tightly enough. ' ' 



THE HISTORY OF A HUMBLE-BEE. 179 




60. — MRS. BUMBLE FILLS THE HONEY JARS. 

^r^ "Does she do it with her paws?" ex- 

claimed the lad, his face all aglow with 
the interest and excitement of his new thoughts. 

"Not quite that, Harry." I replied, smiling; "but 
that 's the principle. Instead of squeezing the crop 
with her hands, she causes the muscles which surround 
it to contract, and that presses tightly upon it. Just as 
my hand is opened and shut at once by certain muscles 
that expand and contract — thus ! — so the bee's crop is 
pushed together and filled out again by the muscles that 
surround it. Now, suppose my fingers to represent 
those muscles.; they tighten upon the crop — so ! (squeez- 
ing the bulb), and then what happens ?" 



180 



TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 



" I see it ! ' ' exclaimed Harry. ' ' The honey is squeezed 
into the tube, and up, up, till it comes out uv the 
noz — the mouth, I mean— just like the water-drops. I 
understand, truly !"' 

" Does all honey go through that process — down the 
bee's throat and up -again ?" asked Abby. 

" All genuine honey does. But over-fastidious people 
can find plenty of the counterfeit article. Though I am 
no wise certain that they will find anything that goes 
through a process of manufacture as thoroughly clean 
and wholesome as the original." 

u We have had so many wonders this evening," 
said the Doctor, "that I am doubtful if we can in- 
wardly digest much more ; but there is one point 
further that I would like }^ou to clear up for me. What 
is the bee-basket in which the pollen is carried home ?" 




FIG. 61.— THE BEE BASKET (FROM NATURE.) 



" I 'd like to know 'bout that myself," said Hugh. 
"I've often heerd bee-raisers talkin' uv the 'basket,' 
and one day tried to study it out from some dead 
bees. 



THE HISTORY OF A HUMBLE-BEE. 181 



But nary basket could I see nuther on head ur tail ur 
back. That 's alius been a myste'y to me."" 

"Very well, then, my good fellow, I promise that 
you shall understand it this 
time. You all remember 
that I called your attention 
to the fact that some of 
the humble-bees that came 
in when we were hiving 
our captured nest had large 
balls of flower dust or pol- 
len on their hind-legs." 

" Yes, we remember 
that," answered Abby. 
1,1 Some of them were yel- 
low, others whitish and 
gray. Was that pollen ?" 

"That was pollen, and a 
brown, resinous substance 
called propolis, more tena- 
cious and extensible than 
wax, and well adapted for 
cementing and varnishing. 
Here are several dead bees 
which I will pass around the circle. Now let us turn 
to our manilla ' black-board ' on the table while I 
draw, much enlarged, one of those hind-legs. The 
shin or middle portion, you see, is flat, of a triangular 
shape, is smooth, shining and slightly hollowed on 
the outer side. This horn-like substance forms the 




FIG. GZ. — HIND LEG OF A 
WORKING HUMBLE-BEE, 
TO SHOW THE BASKET. 
(FROM NATURE.) 




182 



THE HISTORY OF A HUMBLE-BEE. 183 

bottom of the basket. Around the edges of this plate 
are placed rows of strong, thickly-set, long bristles, 
which curve inward. These are the walls of the 
basket, and there ! we have the structure quite com- 
plete, low take this pocket-lens and tell me if you 
see the basket upon those specimens of bees." 

The Mistress and Abby, the Doctor and Hugh — all 
succeeded in making out the much talked of receptacle, 
and the rest were contented with the rough drawing. 

" But how does the bee get her materials into her bas- 
ket ?" asked the Doctor. 

"Ah, I was prepared to hear that. The material is 
collected gradually with the mandibles, from which the 
short fore-legs gather it. Hence it is passed backward 
to the middle-legs by a series of multiplied scrapings 
and twistings which I can't pretend to detail. In the 
same way it is sent back once more to the hind-leg, and 
is scraped and patted into the basket, where it is secured 
from falling out by the walls of bristles whose elasticity 
will even allow the load to be heaped beyond their points 
without letting it fall. When the busy harvester has 
gathered as much as her basket will conveniently hold, 
she flies away home and empties her load by a reversal 
of the process which filled it. In this work, however, 
she is often aided by her fellow-workers." 

" I believe," said the Doctor, " that I better under- 
stand now the force of the verse concerning the bee 
which has crept into the Septuagint version of Proverbs, 
sixth chapter and eighth verse. This version was made 
from the Hebrew for the Greek-speaking Jews of Alex- 



184 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

andria, but the verse has not been found, I believe, in 
the original text. It runs thus : " Go to the bee and 
learn how diligent she is and what a noble work she 
produces, whose labors kings and private men use for 
their health ; she is desired and honored by all, and 
though weak in strength, yet since she values wisdom, 
she prevails." I suppose some bee-loving rabbi must 
have felt jealous of the prominence given to the ant by 
the Wise King and added a comment which future gen- 
erations felt bound to accept as good Scripture. At all 
events, it is good sense." 

"And yet," remarked Abby, "when a man lacks 
wisdom, is a bit hair-brained and visionary, we say that 
he has a ' bee in his bonnet.' How is that ?" 

"It is inconsistent enough," replied the Doctor; 
" but our Scotch friends are responsible for the proverb. 
I suppose it is a case of giving one a character from a 
single quality, and that by no means truly characteris- 
tic. Certainly, I at least shall think of something more 
than mere 'buzzing' when'I remember the bee." 

The full moon had now risen, and its silver light 
could be seen in the distance shimmering upon the 
broad Delaware and the Jersey coast beyond. The 
Doctor had declined our invitation to spend another 
night with us, and made ready to return to Marple. 
Followed bv cordial good-byes, the good man, with his 
old carry-all and chestnut-bay horse, drove away under 
the moonlight, and the farm-house settled down to rest. 



CHAPTER XI. 

INSECT ENGINEERING— BRIDGE BUILDING AND 
BALLOONING SPIDERS. 

' October is the golden month of the American calen- 
dar. There is an indescribable mellowness in the 
atmosphere, as though the year had centered all the 
luscious fruitage of her ripening upon this halcyon 
season. The air is warm, but crisp with ozone. At 
times the sky is clear as in midwinter ; again the land- 
scape is wrapped in a soft haze through which distant 
objects loom with indistinct outlines like the remem- 
bered objects of one's dream. All healthful life in 
Nature finds a joy in very being, none the less because 
there hangs upon all things a prophetic tone of coming 
dissolution. The melancholy days are not yet quite 
" come. 1 ' but are coming, and are near. The leaves are 
adding to their summer green the first tints of russet, 
yellow, and scarlet that shall by-and-by enfold them in 
their dying glory. . The insect-world is still full of life ; 
but already in many species motherhood has paid to 
posterity the last penalty of Nature, and in many others 
the reservoirs of life, are running low. But the waning 
and the waxing of life go on together. Parents are 

dying, but children are gaining in vigor. Multitudes 

12 185 



186 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

have been seized by the strange instinct of migration, 
and are being swept by its resistless force into the cur- 
rents of a new and independent existence. And 
thereby hangs the tale which this chapter is in part to 
unfold. 

On such a morning as I have described Dan entered 
the kitchen precincts with a rueful face. 

" Wat's the matter ?" asked Sarah sharply. "You 
look like the final judgment had come. Is your cle 
woman dead, or 've ye lost your 'baccy pouch ?" 

" Dar's no 'casion for levity, Sairy Ann," said the old 
man solemnly. " T'ings 's bad nuff, and y '11 see it 
byne by." 

" Goody gracious me ! Do speak up, man, and let 's 
know the wust on 't at wanst ! Wat 's happened ?" 

"Wysurafin mighty awful 's happen'd. I cl'ar to 
goodness dat Mars Mayfield's done gone — cl'ar — crazy!" 
Dan lowered his voice, and spoke in a husky sort of a 
growl which he doubtless meant for a whisper. 

"Crazy?" screamed Sarah. "Wat on airth — " She 
stopped short in her sentence, for at that moment the 
Mistress entered the room. She had heard the ominous 
word on Sarah's lips and saw the terrified look upon 
both countenances. Her face blanched, and she sank 
into a chair overcome by an indefinable dread of some 
unknown peril. Her thoughts had run directly to her 
husband, who an hour or more ago had gone into the 
fields. Many readers will sympathize with the Mis- 
tress, though none, perhaps, can give any better reason 
than she why such unreasonable anticioations of evil to 



INSECT ENGINEERING. . 187 

the best 'beloved should inevitably arise on occasions of 
sudden alarm. 

The Mistress is not a woman to give way long before 
an unseen trouble. In a moment she had rallied, and 
demanded the cause of the excitement which she had 
witnessed. 

Dan doffed his hat, thrust his great gaunt hands 
through his matted hair, and began a stammering ex- 
planation. 

" W'y — w'y, you see, MissMayfiel', I war gwine froo 
de meadow while ago, and I sees Mars' Mayfiel' out 
dar standin' by de fence-pos'. He had 'is little spy- 
glass'n 'is 'an, and wur a-spyin' somethin' 'r odder. Jes 
den—" 

The Mistress started to her feet. 

" Has he been hurt ? Tell me !" 

" Hurt ? No, miss, not a' tall ; nuffin 'v the kin', I 
do shore you. 'Z I wur sayin', jes den I seed 'im 
jump de fence like a wil' colt an' break off ober de 
meadow like mad. He ran back and forrud, zigzaggin' 
across de fiel' in de mos' cur 'us way. Den he stopped 
stock still, and went back to de fence and spied at an- 
other pos 1 , and off he goes ag'in like mad — " 

The old man emphasized the last word, cast a pecu- 
liarly sad look toward the Mistress, and then went on, 
with the circumlocution which his tender heart had 
suggested : 

"Off he shoots agin, I say, jes like mad, and goes 
froo wunst more dem wild zigzaggin' motions. I stood 
'n watched 'im a w'ile, and then, clar to goodness, 



188 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

Misses, I done got right sick a seem' poor Mars' May- 
fiel' tuk that a-way — so cur'us like — 's tho' he'd done 
loss 'is senses, and so I jes come straight home, and — " 

"Oh, fudge!" 

The Mistress broke in abruptly upon Dan's story. 
Her face had undergone a strange transformation 
as the narrative proceeded. Its whiteness slowly 
flushed into crimson ; its lines of anxiety gradu- 
ally relaxed into curves of mirthfulness. Then came 
another change — tears mounted to the eyes, and, as 
they trickled out upon the cheeks, Dan had reached the 
climax of his story, and the good woman broke out into 
her hysterical cry of mingled anger, amusement and 
joy. Without another word she turned and left the 
kitchen, leaving Dan overwhelmed with amazement. 

" Lawli bress yer, honey!" he said at last. "De 
news 's been too much for her. It 's done turned her 
own head, too !" 

Sarah was not much clearer than Dan in her view of 
the situation ; but she saw, at least, that the old ser- 
vant had made some sort of a mistake. She, therefore, 
came to his relief in her usual sharp way. 

" There, Dan ! Go 'long, now, to your work. You've 
been makin' a fool 'v yorself agin', 's usual. An' 
w'at's wuss, you 've gi'en the Mistress a powerful bad 
skeer. Purty feller you are, makin' out that your 
betters is crazy ! I reckon you 're an old crank yourself, 
an' orter been sent to the 'sylum long ago. Go 'long, 
now, to your work !" 

The irate cook flourished her pan so vigorously that 



INSECT ENGINEERING. 189 

Dan thought her advice was ' worth heeding, and 
walked off slowly, shaking his head, and muttering 
" 'Bout half de worl' is half cracked, anyhow, an' dat 
ole Sairy, de cook is de'wuss one among 'em." 

This is the story that the Mistress had to tell when 
we had drawn up our chairs to the sitting-room table 
for the weekly conversation about our insect Tenants. 

The subject was Insect Engineering, and some of my 
field studies of the aeronautic flight of spiders, by way of 
preparation for our talk, had been the cause of Dan's 
alarm. 

"Well, Dan," I said, for the old man was at his 
chosen seat on the cricket by the inner door, and 
appeared to enjoy the Mistress's account of his blunder 
as much as the rest of us, "you 're not so much to blame 
after all. I can easily think that the strange attitudes 
cf an entomologist, while in hot pursuit of his favorite 
study, would appear to persons who know nothing of his 
tastes and habits like the wild behavior of a madman. 
Besides, it is not the first time that I have been thought 
a little unsound on account of my natural history 
studies. Years ago when I first began to follow my 
specialties with some zeal, our good Mistress there — as 
she afterwards told me — spent many days in anxiety, 
and passed many hours in tears over what she supposed 
a development of insanity. " 

"Why, Mrs. Mayfield," exclaimed Abby, "could you 
have been so foolish ?" 

"It was even so," wife answered, "and the recollec- 
tion of that fact proved a great comfort to me this 




190 



INSECT ENGINEERING. 191 

morning ; for it helped me to interpret the behavior that 
led Dan quite astray." 

"lam reminded'," I remarked, "of an incident re- 
lated to me b} r Professor Hay den of the Geological Sur- 
vey. One day while engaged in geological studies on 
the great American plains, he found himself widely 
separated from his party, and started out in search of 
it. Presently, the outlines of human forms appeared 
upon the horizon, and thinking them to he his friends 
he turned his steps toward them. As he drew nearer 
he perceived that they were a band of Indians. Greatly 
alarmed, for there were hostile tribes in the vicinity, he 
turned and fled. But the Indians already had seen him. 
At best he was no match in speed for them, but he was 
now weighted down with specimens of various rocks and 
fossils, and was soon overtaken and surrounded. He 
was bidden to dismount, and immediately the savages, 
who had also dismounted, began to strip him of his 
personal possessions. Knife, hammer, watch, disap- 
peared. Then the red hands were plunged into his 
pockets and withdrawn full of — stones ! Again and again 
this was repeated ; pockets, pouch, saddle-bags, all were 
emptied, and, as the pile of rocks grew upon the ground 
beside him, his plunderers broke into a loud laugh. 
Then they looked at him carefully, touched their fore- 
heads significantly, as much as to say "he is crazy." 
and with that strange reverence for the insane, which 
characterizes our American Indians, they respectfully 
returned to him all his goods, mounted their broncos 
and rode . away. I suspect that the savages are not 



192 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

the only persons who reason that one who can devote 
himself to collecting "rocks and bugs " is crazy. For 
my part, I have about concluded that I was much nearer 
perfect sanity in the days spent as a naturalist than 
afterward, when breaking down my health by hard 
work in collecting a fortune." 

"But tell us," asked Abby, "what you were doing 
in the meadow when Dan saw you. I don't wonder, if 
his description is correct, that he did think you. a little 
' cur'us.' " 

"Dan's description," I replied, laughing, "was a 
very good one, from the standpoint of an outside 
observer. The explanation is this : I had stationed 
myself by the fence to watch the ' flying spiders ' as 
they are popularly called. This has been a golden day 
for the young balloonists, and they have been improving 
it finely. As I walked out this morning I saw long, 
white filaments of silk streaming from fence-posts, tall 
stalks of grass, clumps of weeds, shrubs, almost every 
elevated object in the fields. I knew by this token that 
the balloonists were abroad and busy. As I passed the 
Run I saw just at the point where it widens into the little 
pool an object of great beauty. It was a tiny and deli- 
cate, but perfect^ and quite strong suspension bridge." 
(Fig, 64.) 

"A bridge!" exclaimed Abby. "It is some of 
Harry's work, I warrant. He is the handiest boy in 
school with his jack-knife, and beats even our Xew 
England lads, which is saying a good deal." 

I smiled and glanced at Harry, whose face colored 



INSECT ENGINEERING. 193 

under his partial teacher's praise. "Well, my boy, 
what say you ? Was it your work ?" 

"No, sir; I never! I've got a 'flutter wheel' up 
there by the riffles, but nary bridge. I dunno who did 
it at all." 

" I quite believe you, Harry. Let me show you how 
the bridge was made, and that will help us to find the 
architect." 

In lieu of a blackboard I had provided a package of 
wide manilla wrapping-paper and crayons. These 
served admirably for the rude outline sketching, by 
which I hoped in future to make our conversations 
somewhat more interesting to a mixed compairy, such 
as ours. 

" Here is the run ; on this clump of cat-tails was fixed 
one of the anchorages ; on the opposite bank, a-top of 
this cluster of flags, was the other abutment. Here 
from side to side was stretched a foundation line, and 
just below it another." 

"What sort of stuff were they made of?" asked 
Hugh Bond. 

"To be sure, I should have mentioned that before. 
They were silken lines. Between the two, near the 
middle point, was constructed a series of truss-like sup- 
ports, something like this." 

The family group had gathered about the table, and 
bent over, eagerly watching the movements of my pen- 
cil. Before I had finished the sketch two or three voices 
exclaimed in chorus . 

" A spider's web ?" 



194 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

" Yes, the snare of an orb-weaving spider. That is 
the suspension bridge which attracted my attention this 
morning, and I certainly think it a very pretty and in- 
genious one. A little further down the stream where 
the bank rises higher and is crowned on either side with 
sumach and blackberry vines, another orb-weaver had 
stretched her cables, and when I first noticed her- was 
running along one line toward the center. She hung, 
head downward, and moved one leg after another in a 
hand-over-hand sort of -way. When she reached the 
middle point of the line, she began spinning a round 
web like this which I have drawn." 

" How r did she git those lines across the run ?'? asked 
Hugh; "that puzzles me. She didn't swim across 
with it, I reckon ? Though I have seed spiders swim- 
min' or runnin 7 on the water." 

"Not this kind, Hugh. Our spider laid the main 
cables of her bridge in a quite different w T ay. The fact 
is she proceeded much in the manner of Charles Ellet, 
the engineer who built the .first suspension bridge over 
Niagara river in 1840. The first difficulty to be over- 
come was to get a string across the chasm. A reward 
of five dollars was offered for the first string lauded on 
the opposite shore and this brought a host of kite-flyers 
to the scene. The kites fluttered like a flock of birds 
across the whirling flood and soon entangled on the bank 
beyond. The first string thus stretched, a wire was 
next drawn across, and heavier wires in. succession fol- 
lowed until the great foundation cables were laid at 
length, and thence the weaving of the substantial wire 



INSECT ENGINEERING. 



195 




>i„-> 



FIG. 65.— KITING THE CATARACT. 



bridge became compara- 
tively easy." (Fig. 65.) 
" You don't mean to 
tell us tbat spiders 
really fly kites?" asked Abby rather doubtingly. 

" Well, it amounts about to that ; although, properly 
speaking, they fly cords instead of kites. As a rule, 
there is no object at the end of their lines which corre- 
sponds to the kite itself, although T have sometimes 
seen even that closely represented by broadened bits of 
silk, hammock-shaped ribbon, attached to the filaments 
spun out by orb-weavers when preparing for aeronautic 
flight. However, the principle upon which a spider 
stretches her bridge-lines across a stream, or practices 
ballooning, is precisely that upon which American boys 
and Chinese men fly their kites ; so that the engineer of 



196 TENANTS OF AJSf OLD FARM. 

the Niagara bridge and the spider-engineer of the silken 
bridges over Townes' Run operated upon the same prin- 
ciple." 

"But tell us how it was done," said Abby. "1 
haven't the most remote idea how such a creature cau 
fly either a t kite ' or a ' string, ' much less how it can 
go 'ballooning.' " 

" I will do so, and that brings me to the starting point 
of Dan's morning experience. When he saw me I was 
standing by a fence-post watching a small saltigrade 
spider mount into the air. Its head was toward the 
wind, its eight feet spread out in a circle, its abdomen 
turned in the direction of the wind and elevated about 
45°. From the little rosette of spinning mammals at 
the end of the abdomen issued several very delicate fila- 
ments which were caught by the breeze and floated 
upward to the length of several feet. The legs of the 
animal gradually bent backward and downward, and 
then — pop ! with a quick vault the wee creature was off 
and away. (Fig. 66.) 

" I leaped the fence, followed at full speed, trying to 
keep my eyes upon the aeronaut, which, of course, at 
times compelled me to run back and forth, and at zig- 
zag, as Dan put it, over the meadow. This had to be 
repeated with a number of specimens ; but in the course 
of the morning I succeeded in confirming and complet- 
ing observations which I had made years ago." 

"But, tell us," Abby asked, "how the spiders got 
started in their flight over the meadow, and what that 
has to do with your suspension bridges ?" 



INSEC1 ENGINEERING, 



197 



li fig 




FIG. 66.— BALLOONING OR FLYING SPIDERS. 

"Pardon me. I had taken too much for granted, I 
see. The spider, clinging to the post, sets its spinning 
apparatus in operation ; the liquid silk, as it issues from 
silk glands through the many tiny tubes on the spin- 
nerets, is immediately hardened at contact with the air, 
is caught by the wind and drawn out into long threads. 
Presently enough thread is spun out to overcome by its 



198 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

buoyancy the weight of a spider, precisely as the buoy- 
ancy of a balloon overcomes the weight of the aeronaut 
and his car, and permits them to ascend into and float 
upon the air. At that moment, which the spider re- 
cognizes by. the upward traction of the threads, she 
leaps up and is carried off in the direction of the wind. 
Immediately after mounting she turns around, grasps 
her thread-balloon with her feet, spins out a little basket 
or mesh of connecting lines which her feet clasp, and 
then emits from her spinnerets another pencil of deli- 
cate threads. She now rides on a tiny net, hung back 
downward between the two long, floating filaments, 
and is carried before the wind 'where it listeth,' until 
the balloon strikes and entangles upon bush, tree, or 
other elevated object, when she dismounts and sets up 
housekeeping for herself." 

" Have the spiders any control of their own descent ?" 
asked Abby, "or are they wholly dependent upon the 
action of the wind ?" 

" I should have answered, before this morning, that 
they are entirely at the mercy of the wind. But I 
have now seen that which changes my opinion. One 
of the balloonists whom I carefully observed to-day, 
secured its own descent by gradually drawing in the 
floating lines until they gathered in a minute white 
pellet above the mandibles. As the lines shortened 
the buoyancy decreased, the weight of the spider yielded 
to gravitation, until gradually she was drawn to the 
ground and alighted on the grass. If this observation 
shall be confirmed as a truly typical one, we must concede 



INSECT ENGINEERING. 



199 




FTG. 67.— BALLOONING SPIDER PREPARING TO ASCEND. 



that the little aranead produces, by lengthening her 
lines, a result similar to that of the human aeronaut who 
throws out his ballast of sand ; and, Iry gathering in the 
lines, accomplishes what ballooning man performs when 
be pulls the valve and permits the gas to escape.'" 
*' To return to our bridge. The orbweaver when 



200 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

building a snare proceeds, in the main, after the manner 
of the ballooning saltigrade. She stations herself upon 
a leaf or branch, or top of a twig, opens her spinnerets 
and emits a thread which the wind takes up and carries 
out until it entangles on some adjacent object. At 
other times she drops from her perch, spinning after 
her a thread, to the end of which she hangs in a little 
meshed basket rapidly woven. While swinging in this 
position she emits her trial lines as before. 

" ISTow, let us suppose our orbweaver seated upon this 
tall cat-tail, seeking to make her web (Fig. 67). The wind 
blows straight across the Run, and carries out her thread. 
It catches upon the opposite clump of flags, a fact which 
the engineer at once perceives, and draws the line taut. 
She pulls upon it with her feet to test it, then ven- 
tures upon it, and rapidly runs across, dragging after 
her a second cord, which unites with and strengthens 
the first. 

" I chanced to be in ]S~ew York when Farrington, the 
engineer, made the first voyage upon the initial cables 
of the Brooklyn bridge across the East River, and, upon 
invitation of a friend, went down to witness the transit. 
As I watched the bold fellow hung far aloft and moving 
above the sea waves beneath, I was so forcibly re- 
minded of this behavior of my spider friends which I 
have just been describing, that I could not forbear 
pointing out the likeness to my Mend, a distinguished 
engineer, very much to his disgust (Fig. 68.) 

11 The cable which the spider has thus formed is 
strengthened by several overlays, made in successive 



INSECT ENGINEERING. 



201 




FIG. 68. — THE ORIGINAL BROOK- 
LINE BRIDGE. — " ENGINEER 
ARACHNE MAKES THE FIRST CROSSING." 

trips back and forth, until it is strong enough to serve 
as a foundation cable. A second cable is stretched in 
a similar manner, and then the little architect proceeds 
to weave in her snare." 

" How long are those foundation lines ?" asked the 
Schoolma'am. 

''That depends upon the direction of the wind and 

character of the site. If there are elevated objects 

13 



202 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

quite near in the direct cour.se of the threads the lines 
Avill soon entangle and be short ; but if there be a wide, 
open space before the' lines they will stretch out for a 
goodly distance. Our Tovvnes' Run bridge cables were 
not above ten feet long, but I have seen such lines 
twenty-five, thirty, and even some of forty feet in 
length stretched from tree to tree across a country 
road." 

4t I mind seem' one, sir,' 1 said Hugh," right here on 
the old farm much longer than them. I was crossin' 
the yard a leetle arter sun-up w'en I seed suthin' 
glintin' in the air like a fine wire. It stretched from 
a bush, aside the kerriage-entrance, across the track. 
I didn't see the ends of the tiling, just the middle part, 
and I thot at wunst that some rascal had been stretchin' 
a wire across the road to knock off the hats of horse- 
men — it was about that height. I was mighty angry, 
'v course, and went to pull down the wire, w'en lo, an' 
behold, it wur a spider web ! I felt powerful small at 
bein 1 fooled so, but somehow the thread seemed 
magnified b} T the sun, an' I only seed it now an' ag'in 
as the light twinkled on it. However, I concluded to 
measure it. I followed it with my eye clare to the top 
'v the old sycamore tree, and calkerlated that it was 
more 'n a hundred feet long. I never thot much about 
it, and never said nothin' till now. I we often seed 
them stringin' webs around the place, but never one 
anythin' like 's long as that n. I never know'd how 
the3 r wur made nuther ; an' I 'm very much obleeged 
to you fer tellin' us." 



INSECT ENGINEERING. 203 

"And for ray part, I am greatly obliged to you, 
Hugh, for your fact, which is really a valuable contribu- 
tion to our knowledge, as I also have never seen nor 
heard of a spider's bridge-line as long as the one you 
describe. There are many such facts, by the way, 
picked up by non-scientific observers in ordinary life, 
which would be of greatest value to the naturalist 
could they be made known. 

"While we are on this subject I may say that young 
spiders often manage to string out structures that 
oddly resemble a bridge in miniature. After emerging 
from the egg-nest or cocoon, they spend a short season 
in colony, hanging together in little balls. (See chapter 
iii.) Soon the} r begin to move, and as they go they 
drag after them fine filaments of silk. A hundred 
spiderlings, more or less, passing from point to point, 
and back and forth among the bushes by single bridge- 
lines, and keeping close together, will not be long in 
laying out a series of lines and ribbons that remind one 
strongly of the roadway, trusses and cables of a bridge. 
One of the most curious miniatures of this sort which I 
have known was once made in my study. A package 
of cocoons, spun by an orbweaving spider, sent me 
from California, was laid upon my table. One morning 
upon entering the room, I found that the spiders had 
hatched and issued from the perforations in the lid of 
the package, which was a large cylindrical tin fruit- 
can. 

" From the summit of this can, as from a bridge-pier, 
the spiderlings had strung their lines to books and 




204 



INSECT ENGINEERING. 205 

paper boxes laid along the table, and which thus formed 
a series of piers and abutments. They had already 
woven a sheeted way, several inches wide, that stretched 
above the middle of the table for five feet. Thence it 
spread upward to the window curtain in diverging 
threads, among which many of the wee adventurers 
hung (Fig. 69.) I kept the bridge for several days, dur- 
ing which time the "roadway" received many addi- 
tional strings, and some of the baby bridge-builders 
spun delicate little cob-webs along the edges and among 
the trusses of their bridge, and separating themselves 
from their fellows, set up housekeeping for themselves. " 



CHAPTER XII. 

ARGONAUT AND GEOMETER. 

"' Why should your engineer friend have been dis- 
gusted at you for pointing out an analogy between the 
works of man and those of the spider ?" asked Abby, 
abruptly. " For my part I think the likeness is very 
remarkable." 

" Precisely my thought, " said the Mistress. "It is 
wonderful ! It seems incredible that such human-like 
behavior should belong to so lowly a creature. I verily 
believe that I shall never again brush down a cobweb 
without compunction !" 

"I count that saying a triumph, indeed," I remark- 
ed with pleasure; "coming as it does from one who 
is the pink of perfection as a housekeeper, and withal 
full of natural prejudices against 'bugs,' it shows how 
much prevalent dislike of the living things of nature 
arises from lack of knowledge of their interesting habits. 

"I am happy to say that my friend, the engineer, 
soon came to the same view. He had concluded hastily 
that I had belittled the greatest engineering work of the 
age by an unworthy comparison, and the suggestion that 
man had been the copyist of the aranead. On the con- 
trary, I showed him that these were only indications, 

independentlv reached, of the one great Over-mind of 
206 



ARGONAUT AND GEOMETER. 207 

nature, working similar ends by analogous principles of 
action implanted within creatures most widely sepa- 
rated in organization and endowments. Surely there 
could be nothing humiliating in that V 11 

" We were presently joined by a party of gentlemen, 
among whom was one of Mr. Roebling's assistants upon 
che Brooklyn Bridge. He was greatly interested in our 
conversation, and I ventured to carry my analog}- a 
little further. This gentleman, on a previous occasion, 
had given me a detailed account of the building of the 
caissons upon which the immense stone piers had been 
constructed. I asked him : 

"Am I right, Mr. Assistant, in supposing that the 
principles upon which these caissons have been built are 
those of the diving-bell and compression of air ?" 

" Yes ; I suppose that we might say that very truly." 

" Well, then, I will venture to say that I can find the 
same principles embodied in, I will not say anticipated 
by the work of a spider. 

"Well, sir," said the Assistant, "you may, doubt- 
less, succeed ; but haven't you undertaken a pretty 
heavy contract ?" 

"You shall judge the issue. Here now," taking a 
note-book from my pocket, "is a rough sketch of the 
cell or nest of the water spider (Argyroneta aqualka), 
which is found in some of the streams of England. It 
is an egg-shaped silken sac, about the size of an 
acorn, which is woven upon water-plants underneath 
the surface. In the bottom part of the cell is a small 
circular opening. The cell, as first woven, is simply a 



208 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 



FIG. 70. — WATER SPIDERS AND THEIR EGG-SAC 'CAISSON". 

flat, empty sac, with the mouth downward, and as the 
spider is an air-breathing animal, is, of course, useless 
as a domicile in that condition." 

The gentleman followed my sketch with as much 
interest as you all show in this crayon outline. (Fig.70.) 

"Now, look here !" said my friend. '"You're not 



ARGONAUT AND GEOMETER. 209 

going to tell us that your spicier will introduce air into 
that cell?" 

"That is precisely what I shall tell you. Can you 
guess how it will be done ?" 

" I have been trying to think ; but I haven't the re- 
motest notion how the creature could proceed. I can't 
imagine what implements it possesses for inflating such 
a structure in such a site." 

"It is done thus : The spider ascends to the surface 
slowly, assisted by a thread attached to a leaf or other 
support below and at the surface of the water. When 
it nears the top it turns, with the extremity of the 
abdomen upward, and exposes a portion of the body to 
the air for an instant. Then with a jerk it snatches, as 
it were, a bubble of air, which is attached beneath to 
the hairs that cover the abdomen, and is held from 
above by the two hinder legs, which are crossed at an 
acute angle near their extremity. This crossing of the 
legs occurs at the instant the bubble is seized. The 
little creature then descends more rapidly than it 
mounted, regains its cell, always by the same route, 
turns the abdomen within the mouth, and disengages 
the bubble. This is repeated many times until the 
sac is filled and rounded out with air. This cell serves 
the water spider as living-room, dining-room and nur- 
sery. Here she spins her saucer-shaped cocoon, fixing 
it against the inner side of the cell near the top. Out 
of it, by and by, issue a hundred spiderlings, who spend 
their babyhood in this ingenious home, literally 
' Rocked in the cradle of the deep.' 



210 TENANTS OF AN OLE FARM. 

"Now, gentlemen," I asked, "have I proved my 
proposition ?" 

" You have come pretty near doing it, at all events," 
said the Assistant. 

"Truly," said my friend, "if your facts are quite 
authentic, as I am bound to believe, your spider pets 
are worthy an honora^ place in the guild of civil en- 
gineers. Indeed," he added, laughing, "I think that 
I shall suggest this animal as the most suitable emblem 
for our Philadelphia Engineers' Club." 

"I am sure that we all agree with those learned 
gentlemen," remarked Attty. 

" Thank you," I returned ; " I think I shall confirm 
your good opinion b}' going back to the geometric 
spider, whom we left crossing her completed bridge- 
cable to begin the building of her snare. The manner 
in which this is done is most interesting, especially to 
one who has a taste for mechanical work. A point 
near the center is usually chosen— though not always — 
and the spider proceeds first of all to lay out an irregular 
polygon of lines which serves as the foundation or frame 
work of the orb. Here it is," pointing to the crayon 
figure sketched upon the paper ; " and you can see that 
such an arrangement adds to the elasticity of the orb, 
and so increases its power to resist the force of the wind 
and of struggling insects. 

"Next our engineer proceeds to lay in the radii or 
1 spokes ' of her Avheel-shaped web. I do not mean to 
say that she has an invariable order of action, but com- 
monly she will start with a central diameter ; as a c 



ARGONAUT AND GEOMETER. 



211 




FIG. 71. 



-PUTTING SPOKES TO THE 
WHEEL. 



(Pig. 71), at or 
near the middle 
point of which 
she gathers or 
spins a little tuft 
of white silk, 
which I mark 11. 
From this point 
she proceeds to 
put in what we 
may call her first 
radius, H K. I 

will draw this figure (Fig. 72) to show how this is 
done. She drops her spinnerets upon the central tuft 
(H), and draws out a line which she seizes by one of 
her hind claws and holds out from her body. She 
th^n begins to ascend the upper part (a) of the diameter 
a c, and thence passes along the inner foundation line 
K (Ki, Fig. 71) to the point K. All this time she drags 
after her the line which I represent by this dotted line 
.<•. holding it far enough aloof to keep it from entan- 
gling with the thread over which she moves. At K 
(Fig. 72) she stops, pulls this drag- 
line taut, fastens it down to K, 
and thus has her first radius K e 
H. She now returns to the middle 
point H, either along the new ra- 
dius e, or by the round about 
course of K and a. Her next ra- 

FIG. 72. — THE FIRST 

radii. dius is laid in precisely the same 




212 TENANTS OF AN OLD FAUM. 

way, except that it is spun on the opposite part of the 
snare. Thus, returning to our first figure (Fig. 71), 
she will start from H dawn the diameter a c to the line 
m n, dragging after her, as before, a loose thread which 
she tightens, fastens here at n, and thus gets her second 
radius. Hence, she will make the radii H i, H m, 
Hh, and so on, around the circle." 

"I notice," said Hugh, "that you have drawn those 
spokes alternately. That is, you put one on this side 
above, and the next on the other side below. That 
looks mighty workman-like, sir, jist as though a 
mechanic had laid it out. I've done a good deal in tin- 
kerin' at carpentry myself, and ef I were building that 
kind uv a concern with lumber, or rope, either, I reckon 
that 's jist the way I'd set to work. Does the spider 
go at it in that judgmatical style, or is it only your way 
uv puttin' it to us ?" 

" I am glad you raised that point yourself," I replied, 
" for I had intended to notice it. The spider invariably 
puts in her radii in that manner, laying them by what 
I have called alternate apposition. I will illustrate this 
by another figure. I once watched an orb-weaver 
throughout this part of her spinning-work, and drew 
out my note-book and numbered the radii as they were 
made. Before it occurred to me to do this, the lines 
A, B and D had been spun. The others were placed in, 
in about the following order : First, HI (Fig/ 73) ; then, 
on the opposite, H2. Xext, again opposite, you see, 
H3, and after that H4. 5 and 6, 7 and 8, 9 and 10, and 
so on through all the seventeen radii which I counted. 



ARGONAUT AND GEOMETER. 



213 




ALTERNATE APPOSITION. 



You observe that 
there was a con- 
tinual alternation 
of the lines, and 
for the most part 
a double alterna- 
tion — t hat is, 
they were op- 
posed to each 
other not only as 
to the sides — 
right and left — 
but as to the top 
and bottom. You 
can all see that 
this order kept 

the web equally braced and well trimmed from the be- 
ginning to the end of the work." 

" I see that very clearly," remarked Abby, " although 
I confess that I have little taste for mechanics. But 
that isn't all of the web, is it ? Where are the little 
ladders that run up and tlown from the center? 
You pointed them out to me in snares of Orange 
Argiope and Cyclosa. Besides. I remember them by 
some of my experience in broidery, as this kind of 
snare has been very popular in fancy needle-work." 

"The 'ladders,' as you call them, the spider makes 
immediately after the radii, and there is proof of good 
engineering in this part of her work also. When the 
radii are quite done she braces them around the ends, 



214 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

where they converge upon the center by a series 
of spiral lines. Then she prepares to put in the 
rounds of her 'ladders,' Which, however, are one con- 
tinuous line that passes spirally across all the radii 
a number of times, thus forming a series of concentric 
circles. 

" These spirals are often very numerous ; I have found 
as many as fifty or sixty, but generally the number does 
not exceed thirty. They are covered with minute 
beads of a very sticky substance, which give to the web 
its efficiency as a snare. Insects flying against the 
lines are immediately entangled, and before they have 
time to struggle free, the watchful spider pounces upon 
them. As the subsistence of the aranad depends upon 
these spiral lines their structure becomes a matter of 
great importance, and is conducted with becoming 
care. 

u First of all a foundation or frame-work is spun, 
which we will call the spiral foundation. This consists of 
several concentric lines, usually about six or eight, which 
are also spirals, but are quite dry, that is, without 
viscid beads. The spider attaches a thread a short dis- 
tance from the center, and moves around, crossing the 
radii at each circle a little further toward the circum- 
ference until she has covered sufficient space. She 
thus produces a series of spirals whose bounds mark 
out the surface over which her beaded spirals are to be 
spun. 

" Here, for example, we have our radii, braced by 
these cross lines marked Z (Fig. 74). Here at O the 



ARGONAUT ANT) GEOMETER. 



215 




FIG. 74-.— SPIRAL FOUNDATIONS — PUT- 
TING IN THE SPIRALS. 



engineer begins 
and moves up- 
ward (we will 
say) and out- 
ward until she 
spins the limes 
marked I, II, 
III, IY, etc. 
These are the 
spiral founda- 
tions. Xowthe 
movement is 
reversed. The 
spider begins 

at the outer margin of her spiral foundations, and from 
that point carries a line around, moving at each round 
a little nearer the center. She stops at the inner line 
where her foundation spirals had begun (I, Fig. 74). 
The series thus formed constitutes the spiral space, 
and the lines of this space are the L rounds ' of what 
Abby called the 'ladders.' In fact, a section of this 
part of the web is quite like the shrouds or rope-lad- 
ders of a ship. But woe to the voyager who tries to 
climb them-! They are covered with a substance as 
sticky as that which has given the ancient mariner his 
favorite nickname of 'old tar,' for these are the viscid 
spirals of which I spoke a moment ago. 

" In spinning this series, the foundation spirals are 
used precisely as a scaffolding is used for erecting a 
house, I will not explain the process at length, as I 



216 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

fear these details are already tiresome to some of you, 
but will only say that the spider moves along the radii 
and the dry foundation spirals at right angles to them, 
dragging after her the viseid line, pulling it taut when 
she comes opposite the point from which she started, 
very much in the method observed when she makes 
the radii. Curiously enough, as she completes the 
spirals, she bites away the foundation spiral behind, 
just as I have seen builders remove the top timbers of a 
scaffolding as soon as the upper parts of a wall are suffi- 
ciently advanced toward completion. 

"Tell me," said Abby, "a little more about these 
beads. What are they made of?" 

" They are secreted by the spider from glands that lay 
along with the silk glands in the lower part of the body 
near the spinning mammals. I have never been able to 
separate these glands from those that hold the liquid 
silk, and they are forced out by the spider through the 
spinning-tubes precisely as is the material which forms 
the web work. They probably have special tubes 
through which they are secreted. I do not know the 
composition of the beads ; but ' Stickwell & Co.' never 
made anything more viscid. I have kept beaded webs in 
good condition' several months. Tire material looks like 
gum, but darkens a little with age. It reflects light, 
and I suspect that, along with the open meshes of the 
net-like snare, they in this way help to deceive insects 
approaching on wing with the impression that no 
obstacle lies in their course." 

"How can the spider make so many beads?" 



ARGONAUT AND GEOMETER. 



217 









asked the Mistress. u There must be an immense 
number of them ! How large are they ?" 

"To begin with your first question, the beads are 
very small. Let me draw a few strings for you. Here 
are four sections (Fig. 75, I, II, III, IV) that will give 
you some idea 
of their relative 
size and ap- 
pearance. For 
the actual size 
we must use a 
pocket-lens or a 
microscope: 
but, perhaps, I 
can show it 
thus: This last 
line (iv, Fig. 75) 
I will represent 
here (a, Fig. 
75) in natural 

length. The divisions on the line iv, marked by little 
points, correspond with those on the line a." 

" And all those beads are crowded inside that little 
line ?" 

"Yes; but what they lack in size they make up in 
number. I once numbered the beads on a web of 
ordinary size by actually counting those upon a given 
section, and multiplying the result by the number of 
sections. I estimated that there were over 140,000, and 
in some snares the number must be much larger. It 






O. — AKACHNE'S PEARLS- 
BEADS. 



218 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

used to be cited as an example of the wonderful in- 
dustry and skill of the spider that she could manufac- 
ture so vast a quantity of these objects in so short a 
time. In point of fact, however, I believe that the 
beads form themselves in a very ordinary way. As 
they issue from the tubes they gather naturally into 
minute drops ; the effect, perhaps, being aided by the 
twisting of the threads in the quick-moving fingers of 
the spinster. However that "may be they are truly 
Araehne's pearls, even though like some of those worn 
by her sisters of the human species (if rumor speak not 
falsely) they are only made of paste. But I have ex- 
hausted my subject, even if I have not my class, and 
will say good night to our cunning little builder and net- 
work." 

" Was it a geometric spider ?" asked Abby, "whose 
perseverance, according to the tradition, had such an 
influence upon the Scottish monarch Bruce ? The 
story recently occurred in a reading-lesson of one of 
my classes, and I wondered at the time what kind of 
spider had the honor to teach royalty such a royal 
lesson." 

"I cannot promise to answer your question accur- 
ately ; but, at' all events, let us hear the story. It is 
long since I heard it, and we all will be interested in 
the telling." 

" The narrative runs somewhat in this wise : While 
wandering on the wild hills of Carrick, in order to 
escape the emissaries of Edward, Robert Bruce on one 
occasion passed the night under the shelter of a poor, 




FIG. 76.— PRECEPTOR TO HIS MAJESTY : ROBERT BRUCE 
AND THE SPIDER. 



219 



220 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

deserted cottage. He threw himself upon a heap of 
straw, and lay upon his back, with his hands placed 
under his head, unable to sleep. His gaze was rixed 
upward among the rafters of the hut, which were 
festooned with cobwebs. His mind brooded upon the 
hopelessness of the patriotic enterprise in which he was 
engaged, and the misfortunes that already had befallen 
him. From this train of thought he was diverted by 
the efforts of a spider, who had begun to ply its voca- 
tion with the first gray light of morning. The object 
of the animal was to swing itself by its thread from one 
rafter to another, but in the attempt it frequently 
failed, each time vibrating back to the point whence it 
had started. Twelve times did the little creature try 
to reach the desired spot, and as many times was un- 
successful. Not disheartened by its failure, it made 
the attempt once more, and lo ! the rafter was 
gained ! 

" ' The thirteenth time V cried Bruce, springing to 
his feet. ' I accept it as a lesson not to despond under 
difficulties, and shall once more venture my life for the 
independence of my country. ' He renewed the strug- 
gle, and this time won success. 11 

The narrative greatly interested our circle, and had 
warm commendation. 

"Now comes the question," I said, "whether 
Bruce 's spider was an orb-weaver ? Miss Abby's ver- 
sion differs from that which I remember, which made 
the spider's effort one to raise a heavy insect of some 
sort to the roof. Such an incident is more natural, and 



ARGONAUT AND GEOMETER. 221 

the details seem better to correspond with one of our 
common species of line-weavers. I have never seen 
any sort of spider trying to reach distant points by 
oscillating threads, but have often observed them sway- 
ing in the wind. But the lesson is worth heeding, by 
whatever species taught, and even though it be a fable, 
which is not unlikely, our race has a decided tendency 
to associate its heroes with such incidents. The story 
of Bruce and the spider, for example, has its counter- 
part in that of Timon and the ant. 

"This tendency is well illustrated by another series 
of incidents in which an orb-weaver is, without doubt, 
the spider referred to. A friend of mine once told me 
that one of his ancestors, during the massacre of 
Wyoming, had been saved from death in this way : He 
fled before the savages, and was pursued closely by a 
warrior, whom he succeeded at last in eluding, and took 
refuge in a hollow tree. He had scarcely entered ere a 
spider began to spin a web across the opening, and 
wrought so vigorously that in a short time she had 
woven a beautiful round snare that completely covered 
the hole into which the fugitive had crept. The web 
had just been completed, and the spider settled in the 
center, on the watch for prey, when the pursuing Indian 
appeared. He peered under and into every place that 
could possibly afford shelter to a man, and, at last, 
came to the hollow tree. He glanced at the unbroken 
web and the spider quietly seated upon it, concluded 
that no one could have crept into that spot, and hurried 
on. My friend gave name, date, species and location of 



222 



TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 




FIG. 77. — " NOBODY IN, SIR. PASS ON !— £>. 221. 



tree, all with accuracy of detail, and declared that the 
tradition had been handed. down with such positiveness 
as to render it absolutely certain. 

" I questioned the story on the ground that it had 
been told of so many persons, at various periods, that 
it had become apocryphal. He promised to follow up 
the tradition and give me the full proofs, but unfortu- 
nately died shortly after, before his purpose had been 
fulfilled." 

" I have read a like incident as occurring to some of 
the martyrs or persecuted saints," said the Mistress. 
"Who was it — do you remember?" 



ARGONAUT AND GEOMETER. 223 

u The story is told of some persecuted Protestant 
leader during Reformation times, whose refuge was an 
oven. 

" Saint Felix of Nola had a similar adventure, as re- 
corded in the 'Lives of the Saints.' Being hotly 
pursued by his enemies, he crept through a hole in an 
old ruined wall, which was instantly closed up by the 
spinning-work of spiders. His pursuers, never imagin- 
ing that anything could have lately passed where they 
saw so compact a spider's web, after a fruitless search 
elsewhere returned in the evening without their prey. 
Felix found among the ruins between two bouses an 
old well half dry, in which he hid himself for six 
months, during which time he was cared for by a 
devout Christian woman. 

"Long before that Mohammed had the same ex- 
perience when fleeing from the Koreishites with Abu- 
teker. The two men, says the tradition, hid them- 
selves for three days in a cave, over the mouth of 
which a spider spread its web and a pigeon laid two 
eggs there, the sight of which prevented the pursuers 
from searching within, and thus the prophet and his 
friend were preserved. 

u But the earliest incident of this sort which I recall 
is told of David, the King of Israel. The Jews have a 
tradition that when he was fleeing before Saul he took 
refuge within one of the spacious limestone caverns 
found in southern Palestine. The friendly spider there- 
upon appeared precisely as in the other cases ; the pur- 
suers passed on, and the fugitive escaped." 



2U TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

" Do you believe that any of these incidents really 
occurred ?" asked Abby. 

"There ma} T have been in some one case a basis of 
fact for the tradition. It is certainly not improbable. 
But for the most part I count the stories mere fictions, 
or perhaps fables, intended to teach a lesson of respect 
for the most despised creatures of God ; or perhaps to 
illustrate the Divine Providence. Be that as it may, it 
would hardly do for fugitives in our da}' to rely upon 
any such interposition, for men have now learned 
pretty well how rapidly a spider can spin her snare, 
and he would be a dull fellow who could be balked of 
his victim by a mistake on this point." 

" Wal now, Mars' Mayfiel'," remarked Dan, " I doan 
tink so poreley uv de spiders as uv mos' ocler insec's. 
De fac' is, dey's mighty peert critters, and dey eats up 
de bugs powerful. Dey doan do no harm at all, dat I 
eber seed, 'ceptin 1 a bite wunst in a w'ile. Some 
folk 's awful feard to have one git on 'em ; but I often 
heerd in ole Marylan' dat you mustn't nebber kill a 
spider dat lights on your close ; kaze ef yo' do yo' 
destroys de presents dey's a-weavin' fur you. But I'm 
not so shore 'bout dat ; I've had a heap o' spiders light 
on me, and de. presents es a-been skeerce as duck teeth 
fur all dat. Mebbe it'll be all right' dough nex' Christ- 
mas. De luck mus' change some time, I reckon." 

The old fellow bent himself over upon his folded arms, 
rolled his white eyes in a knowing and comical way 
toward the Mistress, rocked his body to and fro, and 
broke into one of his soft, unctuous laughs. 



AKGONAVT AND GEOMETER. 225 

'' What Dan means," said Sarah, taking up the con- 
versation, "is them little bits of spiders — baby spiders, 
I 'spose they are. 'T any rate they're wee things that 
drop on you from the ceiling or trees by long threads. 
I've heerd 'em called money-spinners, and they say 
they'll bring good luck if 3-ou don't kill or hurt 'em, or 
brush 'em off when they're first seen. If you do take 
'em off your clothes you must throw 'em over the left 
shoulder, an' that saves the luck. I wouldn't kill one 
of them monney-spinners on no account ; but law sakes 
alive ! that's nothin' to do with the big spiders that spin 
cobwebs in the corners ! There's no good luck in them; 
an nobody but a sloven 'ud let 'em stay around. I 
sweep 'em out without marcy." 

"But, Sairy Ann," said Dan, "you neber oughter 
kill a spider inside de house. Ef you mus' do't, w'y 
do't out'v doors. Et's jes' pullin' down your own house 
to kill a spider indoors." 

" The notion about the money spinners," I remarked, 
"is, or was, quite prevalent in England and Scotland, 
and I have often heard it here in America. I never 
quarrel with it, for it goes some length toward preserv- 
ing the best of our animal friends from senseless hatred 
and destruction. I recall another use of the superstition 
made by a quaint old divine : ' When a spider is found 
upon your clothes,' he says, 4 we used to say some money 
is coming toward us. The moral is this : Such who 
imitate the industry of that contemptible creature may, 
by God's blessing, weave themselves into wealth and 
procure a plentiful estate.' " 



226 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

u The most curious thing to me about spiders," re- 
marked Hugh, "is w'ere they come from ; I've known 
a house to be cleaned thorough from top to bottom, 
and almost in a night a new crop sprung up. You 
w'itewash a fence or a wall till there's not a cobweb 
to be seen, and it's no time afore they're spun up 
ag'iii, bad as ever. I've hear'n that spiders breed from 
some kind of seeds that putrefy in the air, or spring up 
spontaneous from any sort of corruption. It does look 
somethin' like it, but w'at puzzles me is that they breed 
so rapid on places that have jest been swept an' 
purified." 

"There, Hugh," I answered, " you have touched 
upon a very old conceit. It was a favorite theory among 
ancient writers that spiders, and, indeed, many other 
creatures, were generated spontaneously from decay- 
ing objects. That arose quite naturally from seeing 
such matter usually covered with insects. The rapidity 
with which multitudes swarm to decomposing sub- 
stances must have appeared wonderful, as it still 
appears to people who had no knowledge of the hordes 
who lurk in trees, bush and weeds, and burrow in every 
inch of soil. They are natural scavengers, and the 
presence of corrupt material attracts them immediately 
in immense numbers to the work for which the} r are 
fitted. 

"Some devour the substance, some remove it, 
some bury it, many at once deposit in it eggs, or even 
bring forth worms which fill it with living creatures in 
an incredibly short space of time. The ancients, igno- 



ARGONAUT AND GEOMETER. 227 

rant of these facts, believed that such animals had been 
spontaneously generated. " 

"But, father," said the Mistress, "all this doesn't 
quite cover the point that Hugh has raised about the 
spiders. That does seem strange ; although, of course, 
I know that they are bred from the eggs, and don't 
spring out of dust and decay." 

" I will come to that," I answered ; " and I can best 
illustrate it by an incident that occurred last summer. 
I spent a week with a party of friends fishing upon the 
St. Lawrence River. Our fishing ground lay between 
Alexandria Bay and Lake Ontario, a region which in 
summer time abounds with spiders, who are nested 
along the shores and among the trees that cover the 
beautiful Thousand Islands. The skipper of our steam 
yacht, who soon discovered my entomological hobby, 
related an experience very much like Hugh's. 

" ' I can't imagine where all the spiders come from,' 
he said. ' Every morning I find their round webs spun 
all over the boat in amazing quantities. I have them 
cleaned out carefully, and the next day there the}' are as 
thick as ever ! They keep it up that way all summer, 
and the spiders are just as thick at the end of the 
season as the beginning. Where do they come from? 
How do the}' get aboard the boat ? I never found any- 
body who knew, and if you'll solve the mystery I'll be 
obliged.' 

"Fortunately, I was able to give a satisfactory expla- 
nation. It chanced that on my way to Alexandria Bay 
I took the evening passenger boat that plies between 



228 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

that point and the railroad terminus. The shadows 
began to lengthen as I sat in the stern of the steamer 
watching the charming panorama of green shore, 
rocky islands, and lovely villas unfold while we steamed 
through the transparent stream. 

" Suddenly a dark object passed between me and the 
scene. It was a huge Furrow spider (Epeiva strix), lay- 
ing out the foundation lines of her snare. She had 
dropped from the cornice of the upper deck to the bul- 
wark, and was mounting again when I caught sight of 
her. Another and another followed, and before we 
landed several webs were spun against the roof. I 
peeped under the railing against which my seat was 
placed, and found a number more cozily ensconced 
within their tough silken tubes awaiting the nightfall 
to begin operations. 

k ' Our skipper's yacht I soon found to be occupied by 
a colony of the same species, and I solved his mystery 
by calling attention to the fact. 

"These spiders, at various times, have come aboard 
on little silken balloons, which, as they were borne 
across the river, struck upon your boat. The tiny 
aeronauts dismounted, and took up their quarters. 
They rarely appear in daytime, but at night, after you 
have landed and gone home, they creep out, spin 
their webs, and feed upon night-flying insects. In the 
morning, before you are ready to sail again, they are 
back to their dens and tents in crannies under the 
mouldings. Your men brush down their webs — that's 
all ! The spiders weave them next morning, quite un- 



ARGONAUT AND GEOMETER. 229 

concerned, and so the year wears on. They even breed 
on your yacht, I find, and have probably been suc- 
ceeded by their offspring in this ' life on the ocean 
wave.' " 

"'Well, well,' said the skipper, 'that's a kind of 
stowaway I never heard of before. I shall know now 
how to make a clean sweep of them hereafter ; but. 
really, I don't know that I shall do so, for such cute 
little beggars are almost entitled to a free passage.' 

"'True enough,' I replied, 'and, moreover, they 
quite earn their way by ridding the vessel of more 
objectionable entomological passengers, who are popu- 
larly supposed to have free lodgings on water craft !' 

" 4 Oh ! as to that,' was the quick response, 'we 
don't have any such shipmates aboard this boat !' " 



CHAPTER XIII. 

A BATTLE, A CONQUEST AND A NIGHT-RAID.— THE 
CUTTING-ANT OF TEXAS. 

The morning following our last conversation was one 
of rare excitement at the old farm. One of our most 
esteemed household pets is Dolf, the dog. He is a cross 
between a bulldog and a shepherd, is an admirable 
watchdog, a devoted friend and follower of his master, 
and has conceived a warm attachment for the School- 
ma'am. As to the rest of the household, and visitors 
generally, he is kind enough, or rather harmless by 
reason of supreme indifference. However, he has an 
inextinguishable jealous}* of those of his own kind who 
may enter upon what he considers his lawful domain. 

I was, therefore, not so much surprised as agitated 
to hear, issuing from the front porch that peculiar com- 
bination of sounds — snarling, snapping, 3 r elping, tear- 
ing, scratching, wrestling — which accompanies a dog- 
fight. I was engaged at the time in the back yard, 
with Penn Townes, a thrifty young farmer and de- 
scendant of Jane Townes, the pioneer, who had ridden 
over from his neighboring place on some matter of 
business. Unfortunately his dog had accompanied him, 
a fact which I had not observed until the clamor on the. 

front porch announced it. I rushed to the scene of 
230 



THE CUTTING-ANT OF TEXAS. 231 

battle, picking up a croquet mallet as I ran. Young 
Townes followed, armed with his riding-whip. The. 
discords of the fight grew fiercer, and then for a moment 
ceased at the sound of a woman's voice, heard above 
the din in sharp command. 

My heart leaped to my throat. What woman could 
be so hardy as to interfere in such a conflict ? We 
turned the corner of the house, and saw Abby Bradford 
standing between the two dogs. She had grasped them 
by the leather collars around their necks, and held them 
aloof by main strength. The animals stood at full 
height upon their hind-legs, and struck at and struggled 
to reach each other with their forepaws and fangs. 
They were face to face, with glaring eyes and foaming 
mouths, while horrible growls issued from between 
their white teeth. 

It was a splendid sight : the maiden's erect form, 
whose every muscle was swollen by the effort to hold 
the fierce beasts at bay, crowned by the pale face, set 
with the intensity of emotions, under whose play every 
feature was illumined with new beauty. It is strange 
how a human face lights up and transforms under the 
agitations of a high and courageous deed ! I have 
never seen a sharper and more significant contrast 
between the moral faculties as represented by man, and 
the animal passions characteristic of the brutes, than 
that exhibited by the tableau which came into view 
that morning as we entered the front yard— those ram- 
pant and angry dogs struggling in the hands of that 
brave, comely young woman ! 



232 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

This thought was involuntary and instantaneous. It 
was as fully rounded before my mind in that moment, 
while running in full heat, as now, While I quietly 
write under the shadow of my tent-studio beneath 
green trees. But there was no delay in action ; indeed 
there was need of haste, for the large animals, doubly 
strengthened by their anger, had well-nigh exhausted 
Abby's strength, and were once more striking each other 
with their fangs. She relinquished her hold, and between 
whip and mallet the young farmer and I parted the 
dogs at last, and Dolf was sent growling to his kennel. 
Then we turned to Abby, who, meanwhile, had stood 
intermingling with the angry shouts of the men and the 
yelps of the dogs, earnest pleas that the poor brutes 
should not be injured. 

"Are you hurt?" I asked. 

" Why, no ! That is, I think not. Keally, I hadn't 
thought of that. But I am not sure." 

She lifted her hand ; it was covered with blood from 
a cruel wound in the thumb. 

"Ah, I remember now. It was Dolf who bit me ; 
but he didn't mean it, poor fellow ! He loves me too 
well for that. I don't think I am much hurt." 

"Not hurt, honey?" cried old Dan, who had just 
arrived panting and excited. " Not hurt ?" throwing 
up his hands and showing the whites of his eyes ; " look 
at dat blood den ! Drat dat ole dorg ! He'd orter be 
massacreed, chawin' on sich a lily han' as dat ! HoP 
on dar a minit ; I'll fix dat bleedin'." 

He ran to the arbor vitse hedge, where numbers of 



THE CUTTING- ANT OF TEXAS. 233 

the specked Tubeweaver (Agalena noevia) yearly spin 
their broad snares, and scooped up several of the 
sheeted webs. 

'■ Hole up dat hau' now, honey ; cobwebs is famous 
for stoppin' blood. Dis'll do it shore ! Doan you 
worry hoav. Ole Dan'll make it all right. Dar now, 
dat '11 do.'' 

As he cooed on in this way he applied the web like a 
plaster to the torn flesh. His rough surgery was hap- 
pily successful in stanching the blood. 

By this time the whole family had assembled, Abby 
herself being far the least agitated of the group. Such 
home remedies as were available were applied to the 
wound, and Joe was posted off for the doctor. The 
household was unanimous in upbraiding the bold girl 
for her act, and just as unanimous in admiration of her 
courage. 

No one was more enthusiastic in praise than Penn 
Townes. M It was the pluckiest thing I ever saw," he 
averred, tu whether done by man or woman." He was 
sincere in regrets and apologies for his own share in the 
misfortune by allowing his dog to follow him, and rode 
home evidently much disturbed. 

This is how our Schoolma'am and Farmer Townes 
became acquainted, and it thus happened that two new 
members were introduced to our family conversations. 

On the evening of the accident Penn called to inquire 

about Miss Abby, who, being quite able to answer for 

herself, did so, evidently much to the young man's 

satisfaction. A few days thereafter he called again, and. 

15° 



234 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

as the next evening was our time for Weekly Conversa- 
tion, he expressed a lively interest in the matter, and 
begged permission to attend. Of course we readily con- 
sented, although the Mistress somewhat abated my zeal 
over the acquisition of a new proselyte to entomology 
by suggesting that, perhaps, the chief object of Penn's 
interest belonged to a higher order of creatures than 
insects ! But that is a way which our lady friends 
have — they seem to think that no subject can have 
such attractions to men, particularly young men, as 
themselves ! Be that as it may, Penn appeared in our 
next circle, and as the invitation had been extended 
to all his family, he brought with him his mother. 

Mrs. Townes is a plain Friend, adhering closely, but 
without rigidity, to the doctrines, manner, dress and 
speech of her ancestors. She had already shown a 
neighborly interest in us, and with a love of nature and 
natural science which is characteristic of the .Society to 
which she belongs, entered heartily into our conversa- 
tions. Her kindly ways had gained for her among 
"world's people ,, throughout all our country side the 
familiar title of " Aunt Hannah." We readily dropped 
into the usage, as it seemed a happy compromise 
between the plain "Hannah" of her co-religionists, 
which appeared to us lacking in respect, and the formal 
" Mrs. Townes," which was somewhat distasteful to her. 

" Among the tenants of our old farm," I said, " there 
are none more numerous than the ants. I shall have 
something to say about them by-and-by, but to-night 
I shall speak about some of their cousins-german who 



THE CUTTING-ANT OF TEXAS. 235 

live in Texas. One summer I visited that State to 
make some studies upon a certain ant." 

''Does thee mean to say," interrupted Aunt Han- 
nah, " that thee went all that distance, two thousand 
miles, just to study a single insect ?" 

"Certainly he did," the Mistress answered, "in the 
blazing heat of summer, too. He lived like an Indian, 
worked like a negro, spent no one knows how much 
money for traveling, outfit, wages, etc., "then fell to 
work and wrote and published his book at his own ex- 
pense, all for the sake of one miserable little ant that 
stings like a wasp, and is a nuisance in Texas harvest 
fields. You wouldn't ask such a question, Aunt Han- 
nah, if you knew the naturalists better. Why, they 
are the veriest race of Paul Prys I ever saw. Talk 
about the curiosity of women ! I don't believe there's 
a woman in Christendom that would go through so 
much labor, danger and expense just to peek and pry 
into the secrets of an ant-hill. But, there ! Excuse 
me, dear. I fear this is an outbreak of the old- 
fashioned prejudice. You know I am now only too 
happy to see you busy among your bugs." 

The company had a hearty laugh at the Mistress's 
somewhat vivid portraiture of a naturalist, in which I 
joined with zest. 

"I shall not be offended," I said, "at such good- 
natured truth-telling as that. I assure you that I 
think none the less of myself for that old-time infatua- 
tion. Moreover, I cordially agree with the conclusion 
of the ' matter. Men are more curious than women 



236 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

many times over. I have often said it, and for that 
very reason have maintained that the sterner sex will 
always be the superior naturalists. But a truce with 
this ! We are making no progress with our story. 

" I made my camp in a mesquit grove on the plateau 
of Barton Creek, a branch of the Colorado, a few miles 
beyond Austin, not far from the government trail to 
San Antonio. Here I found the insects which I sought in 
abundance, and spent several weeks studying them. 
But I shall not speak of them now. I found also 
another interesting species, the Cutting or Parasol Ant, 
whose habits I investigated. They furnish a remark- 
able example in one insect of both the cave-dwelling 
and engineering habit of which we have been recently 
conversing. In the first place we want to make the ac- 
quaintance of the ant itself. In this box, which I have 
had sent me from my collection in the Academy of 
Natural Sciences, are pinned specimens of the various 
castes or forms that may be found in one of the Cutting- 
Ant nests. 

u Is it possible that these are ants ?" cried Abby, as 
the box was opened. "Why they are larger than a 
bumble-bee." 

" Yes, these largest forms are the females or young 
queens, the next in size are the males. These wingless 
fellows with the large heads are the soldiers, and others, 
running down through several forms to these tiny 
creatures no bigger than our little brown garden ant, 
are the workers. This difference in size among the 
individual castes of one species, in one common domi- 



THE CUTTING-ANT OF TEXAS. 



237 




FJG. 78.— WINGED FEMALE, MALE, SOLDIER AND WORKER. 

major of cutting-ant (Atta fervens). 



cile, is one of the most curious facts in natural his- 
tory." 

"A word about these winged ants?"' asked Abby. 
U I do not quite understand. I have often heard 
people speak of a winged ant as though it were a special 
kind. But you speak of winged and unwinged forms in 
the one nest. Please explain." 

" The males and young females of ants are always 
winged. In this respect they resemble their hymen- 
opterous allies, the bees and wasps. When they are 



238 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

matured, they swarm or go forth on their marriage 
night, as it is called. After this, the males all perish 
or are devoured by various animals. The 3 7 oung females 
tear off their wings and burrow in the ground. They 
are then queens, and become mothers and founders 
of new colonies." 

" But why do they tear off their wings ?" asked Abby. 
"The queen bumble-bee that we saw the other dav had 
her wings quite like all the other bees." 

"Yes, the workers of bees and wasps are all winged, 
and their mode of life, while gathering food afield as 
well as at home, for the most part requires and is accom- 
modated to a winged state. It is different with ants, 
who are largely scavengers and burrowers, having no 
use for wings except during the marriage flight, for 
which purpose solely they seem to be provided. The 
queen ant doubtless finds the beautiful appendages to 
her wardrobe entirely too cumbersome for her workaday 
life, and therefore puts herself into plain attire." 

"There, Aunt Hannah," suggested Abby. "You 
see you can ' go to the ant ' to find a justification for 
your notions about plain dressing." 

" Thank thee, Abby, for thy good word," said Aunt 
Hannah, smiling. "But thee forgets that the queen 
bee and all her busy workers, who have quite as good 
a name for the virtues of industry and economy, keep 
their gay apparel. Friends are not so severe in their 
views of dress as they used to be, and perhaps there is 
less need of their testimony. At all events, to return 
to thy analogy, if it seems becoming to the queen ant to 



THE CUTTING-ANT OF TEXAS. 



239 




PIG. 79. — MOUND NEST OF CUTTING-ANT. 

cast off her gaudy ornaments, we 
will not say that the queen bee 
who adheres to her wings is without 
natural, becoming and industrious ways. My plain 
bonnet suits me very well, Abby, but perhaps it might 
not be so becoming to thy beauty. Though, I think 
thee would make a very pretty Quakeress, too !" she 
added, with a pleasant smile, and kindly glanced at the 
blushing School ma'am. 

We cordially enjoyed thjs sood -humored sally, and 



240 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

with a word of commendation for Aunt Hannah's 
generous opinions, 1 resumed my narrative. 

" There were several large colonies of cutting-ants at 
points sufficiently near camp for purposes of study. 
The surface architecture presented two typical forms. 
One of these was that of a mound twenty-one feet long 
and about four feet high, which had been accumulated 
around a large double-trunk live-oak tree (Quercus 
virens),, which stood on the side of a road. (Fig. 79.) 
The second form was located on a high, flat, up- 
land prairie, and was a bed of denuded earth, about 
nine by seven feet in dimensions. It was placed in 
the midst of the grassy open, but not far from a young 
grove of forest trees. 

" Over the denuded surface were scattered between 
twenty and thirty circular, semi-circular, and S-shaped 
elevations of fresh earth-pellets. The circular mound- 
lets had the appearance of a cuspidore, the resemblance 
being stronger by reason of a round, open entrance or 
gallery-door in the center. All had been naturally 
formed by the gradual accumulation of the pellets oi 
sandy soil, as they were brought out by the Workers 
and dumped upon the circumference of the heap. The 
moundlets were from three to four inches high, massed 
at the base, and gradually sloped on" toward the top. 
I found several of these ' beds,' as the Texans call them, 
and this is doubtless the normal form of the external 
architecture of the formicary. The live-oak mound 
was probably formed by accumulations around the tree, 
caused by the bordering road which restricted the limits 



THE CUTTING- ANT OF TEXAS. 



241 




of the gates, and so threw separate 
moundlets back upon each other. 

" My first view of the mound led 
me to fear that I had made a seri- 
ous mistake and pitched my camp 
near an abandoned nest. There 
was not a sign of life. The mound 
was covered over with earthen 
knobs or warts of various sizes, but 




PIG. 80. -PROCESSION OF PARASOL OR CUTTING-ANTS. 

the action of a recent shower upon the black soil gave 
the hill the appearance of an old one. Here and there 
were scattered over the surface small, irregular heaps 
of dry leaves, bits of leaves and twigs. Otherwise the 
mound seemed lifeless, deserted. 

" My next visit was in the evening. After supper I 







242 



THE CUTTING-ANT OF TEXAS. 243 

left one of my men to guard camp and build a camp- 
lire, and took another with me carrying a lantern, to 
the live-oak nest. An amazing change had occurred ; 
instead of silence and seeming desolation a scene of 
thronging life and stirring activity Avas presented. 
Hosts of ants of various sizes, and in countless numbers, 
were hurrying out of open gates into the neighboring 
jungle, and two long double columns -were stretched 
from bottom to top of the overhanging live-oak ; one 
column ascended, the other descended the tree. The 
ants in the descending column all carried above their 
heads portions of green leaves, which waved to and fro 
and glanced in the lantern light, giving to the moving 
host a weird look as it moved along. It seemed like a 
procession of Lilliputian Sabbath-school children bear- 
ing aloft their banners. It is this habit which has 
given the insect in some quarters the popular name of 
the "Parasol Ant. 1 ' 

" But what could the creatures want with parasols ?'" 
asked Abbv. " There was neither sunshine nor rain to 
protect themselves from ?" 

tu We shall see the use of these leaf-cuttings presently. 
The name parasol is of course based upon a popular 
fancy, as these ants when seen abroad are usually ac- 
companied— like that friend of our boyhood, Eobinson 
Crusoe — with their odd-looking umbrella-like append- 
ages." (Fig. 81.) 

u Do they hold them in their hands ?" asked Aunt 
Hannah. 

" No, in their jaws or mandibles *, an odd place to 



244 



TENANTS OF AN OLD FAliK 



carry a parasol, perhaps, but the}- manage it well. I 
will show you how r this is done when I have explained 
the leaf-cutting habit. I observed very fully at the nests 
around my camp and in vegetable gardens near Austin 
the mode of cutting and carrying leaves. In order 

better to see the process I 
thrust leaf}' branches of 
live-oak into the mound 
near the gates. They 
were soon covered with 
ants, and as the lantern 
could thus be used con- 
veniently, the operations 
of the cutters were com- 
pletely in view. The cut- 
ting is done in this way - 
The cutter grasps the 
leaf with outspread feet 
and makes an incision at 
the edge by a scissors-like motion of her sickle-shaped, 
toothed mandibles. She gradually revolves, steadily 
cutting as she does so, her mandibles thus describing a 
circle, or the greater portion thereof. The feet turn 
with the head. The cut is a clean one quite through 
the leaf." 

" How large a piece do the insects cut out ?" Aunt 
Hannah asked. 

" The cutting is about the size of a ten-cent piece or 
sixpence, and is usually roundish in shape, though often 
irregular. The cutter would sometimes drop with the 




FIG. 82. — DEFOLIATED TWIG 
OF PRIDE-OF-CHINA-TREE. 



THE CTJTTING-ANT OF TEXAS. 245 




FIG. 83. — ANT MAKING A CUTTING FROM A LIVE-OAK LEAF. 

excision to the the ground, sometimes retire when the 
section had dropped, and sometimes seize the section 
and carry it down the tree or branch." 

" I was greatly interested to notice here an apparent 
division of labor. At the foot of one tree was a pile of 
cut leaves, to which clippings were being continually 
added by droppings from above. Carriers on the 




FIG. 84.— HEAD OF A CUTTING-ANT, ENLARGED EIGHT TIMES. 



246 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

ground took these up and bore them to the nest. The 
loading of the sections was accomplished in this wise : 
the piece was seized with the curved mandibles, the 
head elevated and the piece thrown back with a quick 
motion. Let me draw for you the head of an ant and 
you will see how this is done. A deep furrow runs 
along the entire medial line, except the part at the very 
end of the face called the clypeus. At the edge of 
this furrow, on either side, and on the prothorax pro- 
jecting over the neck are prominent spines, which you 
w r ill notice if you look again at the specimens. (Fig. 84. ) 

" I have a cousin who once lived in Texas," remarked 
Penn, "and he has told me that things down there have 
a wonderful tendency" to be jagged and thorny. How 
is that ?" 

" Certainly it is so with many plants and animals. 
Both species of ants studied by me, the cutting (Attn 
fervens) and agricultural (Pogonomyrmex barbatus) are 
marked with strong spines. Then there are spinous 
spiders, though we have some of them on our old farm 
too ; horned toads hopping everywhere, horned lizards 
running swiftly over the ground, prickty cactus plants 
grown into great bushes^ thorn trees of many sorts, the 
soap plant, the splendid Spanish bayonet, certainly well 
named, and, not to be tedious, the famous wide-horned 
Texas cattle herding in thousands on the plains. 

"The spines upon our cutting ant together with the 
furrow seem to serve a very good purpose. The 
worker seizes the leaf-section and by a quick motion 
lodges it on edge within the furrow and between the 



THE CUTTING-ANT OF TEXAS. 247 

spines. This is done, at least, in some cases. The 
cutting and carrying were not done, so far as I saw, by 
the smallest castes. The soldiers also rarely engaged in 
this work but were seen to precede the excursion columns 
as they moved out and up the tree, and afterward to 
return as though engaged as scouts or pioneers. They 
are grotesque-looking creatures as they move along 
with a rolling gait, shaking their big heads and waving 
their antennae. 

Here Dan joined in the conversation. 

"Mars Mayfiel', I doan see how you could abar to 
mix up wid dem ants in dat away. I wouldn't do it 
for no money. Dey's entirely too wise for sech brute 
critters. Tain't naterl wisdom nohow. How yo' s'pose 
dey do all dem tings jes by 'msels ? Doan tell me ! 
My ole mammy done tell me often : 'Webber 'stroy de 
ants, honey. Dey'z all fairies ; eb'ry one of 'em fairies; 
'n ef yo' interfar wid' em dey '11 'witch our cows so dat 
dey'llgive no milk.' Dis's a great dairy county, Mars 
MayfieF, "n I tell yo' dar's powerful need of bein' cau- 
tious 'bout meddlin' too much wid tings wat's got 
sech onnaterl ways. 'Scuse me, sah, but dat's my 
"pinion. 1 ' 

"All right, Dan," I responded; "this is 'Liberty 
Hall' on our Conversation nights, and we want every 
one to feel free to speak upon the subject before us. 
Besides, I have now said all that I intend to-night, and 
will gladly hear others." 

"Daniel," said Aunt Hannah, u doesn't thee know 
that that is superstition ? iSTo such power as thee 



248 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. , 

spoke of is given to any creature. The insects have 
natural power to harm us, and they do it pretty freely, 
some of them, but they have nothing more, and thee is 
too old to believe and utter such unwise things. Where 
did thee learn such things ?" 

"I am afraid, Aunt Hannah," said I, answering for 
Dan, " that our friend is too old to rid himself of these 
notions, and I have already put our young people on 
their guard. I don't wonder, however, that Dan has 
picked up that superstition about ants bewitching cows, 
for he is from Maryland, you know, and such an opinion 
does certainly prevail in the neighborhood of Washing- 
ton, and throughout Virginia." 

. This little episode concerning the occult powers of 
nature brought Sarah to the front, as such subjects 
were pretty sure to do. Standing in the kitchen door 
with hands under her apron, she attacked Aunt 
Hannah's position with much emphasis. "Super- 
stition ! There it goes ag'in ! Folks is got so awful 
larned .nowadays, that they're not content onless 
they're upsottin' some belief 'r other that common folks 
hold, an' their feythers afore 'em. Now, for my part, 
I believe 'n witches. More 'n that, I believe that not 
only dumb critters but human bein's, too, are bewitched 
— lots of 'em ! That's not to say, however, that Dan's 
right about them ants. I don't believe ther's any 
harm in 'em at all. Dan got the cart afore the horse, 
as he ginrely does. I believe there's good luck in ants. 
They're most industrious critters, trig and tidy as a 
posey. An' w'at's more, Scripter commends 'em, and 




PIG. 85.— ANTS BEWITCHING THE COWS.— p. 347 



16 



250 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

sots 'em up as an example for usn's — barrin' always 
them pesky little red house-ants w'ich I don't believe 
Scripter ever meant to include. Doesn't the Bible sa}' 
k Go to the ant, thou sluggard — consider her ways and 
be wise ' ? Now you don't think the Bible'd speak 
that-a-way 'v witches, do you, Dan? Of course not. 

"I always heerd there 'z good luck in ants. My 
granmam told me — she was an Englishwoman — that it 
was writ in the Royal Dream Book that to dream of 
ants or bees showed that you'd live in a great town Or 
city, or in a large family, and that you will be indus- 
trious, happy, well married, and have a large family." 

"Well, Sary Ann," answered Dan, rising from the 
cricket and placing himself in a safe position by the 
back kitchen door, "ole Dan, mebbe, doan' git t'ings 
alius perpendickler ; but I reckon he'd git it 'bout right 
this time ef he'd 'low that you didn't never dream uv 
ants !" With this retort he disappeared, wafting back 
to the disconcerted cook — whose matrimonial venture 
had been notoriously unfortunate — a triumphant and 
aggravating " He, he ! ho !" 

" Thee must excuse Daniel," said Aunt Hannah, who 
felt bound to apologize for the old man's familiar ways. 
" Thee knows he has been employed in the family for 
half a century and more, and like most old servants, he 
is disposed to take many liberties. Indeed, he feels a 
sort of proprietorship in the old place." 

"Don't trouble yourself, Aunt Hannah," responded 
the Mistress. " Mr. May field is anxious to call out all 
the curious notions and superstitions which prevail about 



THE CUTTING-ANT OF TEXAS. 251 

insects amorg all classes of persons, and he has encour- 
aged all our people to talk freely. They are not likely 
to step much beyond the bounds of propriety, and I 
don't care to restrain them.''' 

"Very well; thee will find Daniel a good, faithful 
fellow, but much tainted with curious African supersti- 
tions, and sometimes over-free with his opinions. 
Good-night, and many thanks for this pleasant evening 
and thy kind invitation to return. Come, Penn, if thee 
has finished explaining that ant-hill to friend Abby, 
we will go.' 



CHAPTER XIV. 

A TOUR THROUGH A TEXAS ANT-HILL. 

u What do the cutting-ants do with the leaves 
which they carry into their holes?" The evening's 
conversation began with this question. 

u I was very anxious to answer that inquiry, you ma}' 
be sure, and there was only one way to do so — I must 
dig up the nest. My three assistants were armed w 7 ith 
pick and shovel ; I was provided with trowel, knife, 
pocket-rule, and my little satchel, filled with boxes, 
bottles, and various odds and ends for collecting speci- 
mens and other work. Camp-stool and drawing 
materials stood at the road-side. We knew that the 
insects would swarm upon us in innumerable legions 
when we assaulted their home, and that their sharp 
pincers would be formidable weapons. We therefore, 
like ancient knights, girt ourselves with armor for the 
conflict. 

" Handkerchiefs and scarfs were bound around 
face and ears under our hats ; bandages swathed our 
necks tightly ;' trousers were thrust into boot-tops, 
and these tightened to the legs ; hands were gloved 
and wrists bandaged ; indeed, every opening through 
the clothing by which the angry ants might find way 
to the body was protected by wrappings. Thus ar- 
rayed, I led my little army to the assault. 
252 



A TOUR THROUGH A TEXAS ANT-HILL. 2oS 

Two men were detailed for the digging, one to the 
work of brushing off the ants with leafy branches and 
wisps of grass. Two trendies were made ; one ten 
feet long and five feet deep, and a second at right 
angles to it, and wide enough to allow free entrance for 
purposes of study. We were not disappointed in our 
calculation as to the reception which the ants would 
give us. The swift use of the spade and the general 
convulsion of their emmet world did, indeed; daze them 
for a little while ; but they were not long in rallying. 
Hundreds — thousands — hundreds of thousands poured 
out of the excavations. I never saw anything like it. 
I was amazed at the extraordinary number of creatures 
inhabiting that one hill. The knight of the whisk was 
overwhelmed with the duty of keeping the assailing 
legions from his comrades of the spade. I came to his 
help. We were both driven to our utmost. The dig- 
gers were literally covered with ants ; and when the 
insects had mounted as far as their necks, they were 
compelled to leap from the trench, and join their own 
labors with ours in freeing them from the attacking 
hordes." 

"It does seem too bad," exclaimed Aunt Hannah, 
" that thee should have felt bound so to destroy the 
poor Greatures ! Didn't thy conscience hurt thee some 
for such wholesale spoliation and killing ?" 

" Kot in the least— certainly in the case of cutting- 
ants, who are fearful pests to the farmers, as we shall 
see by-and-by. Do you feel any scruples at your hus- 
band's slaughter of the potato-beetles?" 



TOUR THROUGH A TEXAS ANT-HILL. 255 

"Joseph doesn't have any, at all events," said Aunt 
Hannah, smiling. . 

"Besides that," I continued, "the naturalist, as a 
priest in the temple of nature, must have some power 
over the life of the lower creatures. I didn't kill any 
more ants than were actually necessary for study. If 
we hadn't killed them they would have driven us from 
the held ; for I assure you, Aunt Hannah, the}' don't 
practice your gentle Quaker principles of non-resist- 
ance. But to go back to my story. 

"By dint of perseverance we finished our trenches, 
and had beautifully exposed the interior of the formi- 
cary. We were not long in reaching the caves in which 
the ants dwell. Then came my turn to enter the 
trench, for the rude strokes of spade and pick could not 
be trusted to the delicate work of making out the 
forms and proportions of the rooms and roadways of 
the formicary. It is no easy task to trace these 
through the inside of a crumbling ant-hill, and it re- 
quired careful work. Down into the trench, therefore, 
I must go, and as I had to work slowly and at close 
quarters, picking away piece by piece, measuring, tak- 
ing notes, gathering specimens, I was far more exposed 
than my assistants. Indeed, it required the united 
efforts of all three to keep the ants away from my face. 
As for the rest of my body I bade them let that go, 
although occasionally a soldier ant would thrust his 
sharp sickles even through nry clothing, and force me 
to give him attention. However, our punishment by 
these insects was mild as compared with that of the 




256 



A TOUR THROUGH A TEXAS ANT-HILL. 251 

agricultural ants, who have stings as sharp and viru- 
lent as hornets. 

u The interior of the formicary may be briefly de- 
scribed as an irregular arrangement of caverns com- 
municating with the surface and with each other by 
tubular galleries. These caverns or pockets were of 
various sizes, three feet long and less, and twelve inches 
deep by eight inches high, and less. !No\v we come to 
the question of how the ants dispose of the-leaves which 
they collect. 

"Within these caverns were masses of alight, delicate 
leaf-paper wrought into what may properly be called 
'combs.' Some of the masses were in a single hemi- 
sphere, filling the central parts of the cave ; others 
were arranged in columnar masses two and one-half 
inches high, placed in contact along the floor. Some 
of these columns hung-like a rude honey-comb or wasp's 
nest from roots that interlaced the chamber. The 
material was in some cases of a gray tint, in others of 
a lead-brown color and was all evidently composed of 
the fibre of leaves." (Fig. 88.) 

"You speak of this material as leaf-paper,' said 
Abby. " Do you mean that the leaves were fastened 
together like pieces of paper, or that they were ground 
up and made into a true paper ?" 

" The fibre of the leaves had actually been reduced 
to pulp, and spread out into a papery mass, which had 
dried into the shapes described." 

" But how could this have been done ?" 

"Undoubtedly by the joint action of the mandibles 




258 



A TOUR THROUGH A TEXAS ANT-HILL. 859 

and salivary glands. The former organs are powerful 
instruments that readily grind up the leaves, which are 
kept moist and pliable by the latter organs. This is, in 
iact, a rude process of paper-making, and it is not sur- 
prising to find the habit in the ants, since it exists in 
great perfection among their close relations, the wasps. 

"On examination, the pulpy masses proved to be 
composed of cells of various sizes, irregular in shape, 
but maintaining pretty constantly the hexagon. Some 
of the cells were half an inch in diameter, many one- 
fourth inch, most of them one-eighth inch, and quite 
minute. Some were one inch deep, and usually nar- 
rowed into a funnel-like cylinder. Large circular open- 
ings penetrated the heart of the columns. Ants in 
great number, chiefly of the small castes, were found 
within the cells ; in the first large cave opened were 
also great quantities of larva?.'" 

" Does thee know what these leaf-combs are used 
for?" asked Aunt Hannah. 

" I believe that they are the living-rooms of the ants. 
particularly of the grubs and younglings. The eggs, I 
think, are deposited within the cells, and are there 
hatched. The paper is so fragile that it breaks under 
the most delicate handling, but the ants ran over it 
with impunity. However, Mr. Belt has started the 
curious theory that the leaf-paper masses are a sort 
of mushroom garden, wherein a minute fungus is pur- 
posely cultivated by the ants for food. That, if true, 
would certainly show a rare degree of intelligence, 
though by no means beyond the emmet capacity. I 



260 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

submitted some of my specimens to the microscope, 
and they did show fungus growths, but that is only 
what might be expected in such dark, underground en- 
vironment. I believe that the chief food of the ants is 
the juice of the leaves which they gather, although the}' 
are not confined to that diet. I saw one immense 
column, for example, engaged in plundering a granary 
of wheat, which was being carried away, grain by grain, 
to the nest." 

"Have they any preference among the trees which 
they defoliate ? , ' ) asked Abby. 

"Yes.; a decided preference. The principal leaves 
gathered at my camp were those of the live-oak. The 
great tree above the mound was, in some parts, stripped 
to the very top. The young saplings in the neighbor- 
hood were in great part or wholly stripped. Some wild 
vine unknown to me was an especial favorite, but some 
plants stood in the little thicket around quite untouched. 
I thought it curious, by-the-way, that the workers 
showed . a preference for beginning their operations at 
the topmost or outmost twigs of the branches. A 
china-tree which I observed showed one side nearly 
stripped of leaves, while the other side was untouched. 
(Fig. 89.) 

" I visited the grounds of an intelligent nurseryman 
near Austin, and learned from him many interesting 
facts. The ants prefer trees with a smooth leaf, are 
severe upon grapes, peaches, china-tree, radishes ; take 
celery, beets, young corn and wheat, plum, pomegran- 
ate, honeysuckle, cape jessamine, cape nryrtle, althea. 



A TOUR THROUGH A TEXAS ANT-HILL. 261 




FIG. 89. — PRIDE-OP-CHINA TREE STRIPPED OP LEAVES ON 
ONE SIDE BY CUTTIXG-ANT. 

On the other hand, they do not like lettuce, won't take 
the paper mulberry, nor figs and cedar, except the bud 
ends in the scant days of winter. They love sugar, 
grain and — tobacco !" 

"Tobacco!' 1 exclaimed Aunt Hannah; "can such 
an unnatural taste exist in a pure state of nature ?" 

"Oh, for that matter," remarked Abbv, "I think 



262 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

it far more fitting material for an ant's jaws than a 



man s 



\v> 



' w They certainly seem to find a use for it," I resumed, 
"for the nursery man assured me that the ants made 
foraging excursions even into his house, entered his 
desk-drawers, and carried away a portion of his chew- 
ing tobacco before the robbery was discovered. He had 
to be very careful thereafter where he deposited the de- 
lectable weed. 1 ' 

"Truly," cried Abby, "wonders never cease to be 
explained. It has always been a mystery to me how the 
tobacco-chewing habit could have originated among 
men. But here we have it ! It comes down by long 
descent from some far away emmet ancestor of ours !" 

"Tut, tut, Abby," interposed Aunt Hannah. 
"What does thee mean by such nonsense?" 

"Nonsense! Why should you call it that?" re- 
torted Abby, while her eyes twinkled merrily. " It 
M r as only a few days ago that I read, floating through 
our daily papers, a saving of one of Mr. Mayfield's dis- 
tinguished ant-loving friends to the elfect that if one 
were to judge from intelligence and general affinity of 
social habit and organization alone, man might more 
readily be derived froin an ant than from an ape. So, 
there ! My remark has the wisdom of the evolutionists 
behind it, and a specialist's justification besides." 

" We cannot stop to settle the wisdom of Abby's re- 
mark," I observed, " or even whether she is in jest or 
earnest. But I will cordially endorse Sir John Lub- 
bock's remark, with a good deal of emphasis, however, 



A TOUR THROUGH A TEXAS ANT-HILL. 263 

on the if. I was frequently surprised at the ability of 
these cutting-ant masons to excavate vast halls and 
subterranean avenues. I visited several holes in the 
vicinity of Austin, out of which 'beds ' or nests of ants 
had been dug by an old man who used to follow the 
business of an ant-exterminator. These holes were 
nearly as large as the cellar of a small house. One 
such excavation, about three miles from the city, was 
twelve feet in diameter and fifteen feet deep. At the 
lowest point the main cave or chamber had been found 
which, I was told, was as large as a flour barrel. In 
this central cavern were many winged insects, males 
and females, and quantities of larva?. It was the head- 
quarters of the formicary, whence, in various direc- 
tions, radiated avenues through which the workers 
issued upon their numerous raids. 

"I was struck by the engineering skill displayed in 
laying out these avenues. Take this example. The 
nest of which I speak was situated 669 feet from a tree 
that stood in the front yard of a gentleman's house. 
The tree had been stripped bare of leaves b} r the cutting- 
ants ! Assisted by a young civil engineer, I took the 
range of the underground way traversed to reach this 
point, and from the surve\r, an accurate route was con- 
structed by a friend in the office of the Pennsylvania 
Railroad. This is a copy of it (see page 264.) You 
see that the course varies little from a direct line. 
There were no turnings or twistings, but the tunnel ran 
from point to point straight as an arrow flies. In this 
respect' the map is true to the facts." (Fig. 90.) 



264 



TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 



" That is an important explana- 
tion," Abby remarked, "for I have 
learned to take all maps that issue 
from railroad offices with great 
allowance for a scientific use of 
the imagination. It is surprising 
to see how straight their lines run 
between main points on the maps, 
and how many curves, sweeps and 
deflections there are when you come 
to ride on their trains !" 

As Abby's sally evidently touched 
a common experience it was greeted 
with hearty merriment. "I can 
vouch for the accuracy of this chart, 
at all events," I said. "And this 
is all the more remarkable when you 
remember that the lines were run 
underground. In some places the 
tunnel was as deep as six feet be- 
neath the surface, the average depth 
being about eighteen inches. At 
the 'Exit Hole,' 484 feet from the 
nest, the tunnel was two feet deep. 
I am not prepared to say upon 
what principles these lines were laid 
out by the ants, but I venture the 
opinion that they show as good evi- 
dence of thorough engineering in 
going directly to their points of des- 



' 



A TOUR THROUGH A TEXAS ANT-HILL. 26', 

dilation, as do the famous underground railways of Lon- 
don. Besides this main way which I have described, there 
were two branch tunnels which deflected from the 
trunk-line near the country road, in order to gain en- 
trance to a peach orchard one hundred and twenty feet 
distant." 

"How did you trace these tunnels ?" asked Penn. 
"It must have been an immense work to dig after 
them.' 1 

"The work had been done by the planter, who, de- 
termined to exterminate the nest, had traced it up with 
the help of laborers. Much of the way was actually 
dug out, and the trench was visible when I visited the 
place. As to the rest, it was only necessary to sink 
holes here and there along the estimated course, and 
when the tunnel was struck, take another bearing. 
The nest was finally reached, and the great pit was 
there to show how extensive the colony had been. 

" In view of such observations as these, I am quite 
prepared to believe the story related by Dr. Lincecum, 
who long observed the habits of the cutting-ants in 
Texas, that they on one occasion tunneled beneath a 
stream in order to reach a garden that lay on the 
opposite side. There is one other remarkable habit 
which I observed before the mound nest near my 
camp had been destroyed. It relates to the opening 
and shutting of the gates which communicate with the 
interior. I soon found that doors were opened and 
closed before and after every exit from the nest. The 
process is a long, careful, and complicated one." 



266 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

" What did the gates look like V asked Harry. 

"They are simply little heaps of dry leaves, twigs, 
and such like refuse, which are seen scattered here and 
there over the mound as one approaches it in day-time. 
(Fig. 91.) When I first saw them, as I have told you, 




FIG. 91. — THE GATE CLOSED. 

I was completely deceived, and thought them nothing 
more than accidental accumulations. I found out, 
however, that these piles were raised above the surface 
opening of the galleries that penetrated the mound, 
and that they filled the mouths to the depth sometimes 
of an inch and a half. The leaves and chips were in- 
termingled with pellets of soil, and occasionally below 
them the gallery was quite sealed with pellets. The 
galleries frequently slant inward from the gate, and at 
as great an angle as forty-five degrees. Sometimes 
they deflect a short distance from the top. These con- 
formations allow more readily the process of closing, as 
they give a purchase to the material used. 

u The doors are opened about dusk. First appear the 



A TOTJB THROUGH A TEXAS ANT-HILL. 267 

minims, the very small forms, creeping out of minute 
holes, which they have doubtless made by working 
inside, and deporting from the heap grains of sand. 
Presently larger forms follow, carrying away bits of 
refuse, which they drop a couple of inches more or less 
from the gate. This is a slow process, and apparently 
nothing is accomplished for a long time. But evidently 
the whole mass of plugging is thus gradually loosened. 
Then comes the final burst, with soldiers, majors and 
minors in the lead, who rush out, bearing up before 
them the rubbish, which flies here and there, and in a 
few moments is cleared away from the gallery and 
spread around the margin of the gate. (Fig 92.) These 




FIG. 92. — THE GATE OPEN. 



chips are doubtless gathered together for this purpose, 
and are among the treasured properties of the ants 
being kept near by for such service. I easily identified 






*vss 







•-^ i -.- 






2i;s 



A TOUR THROUGH A TEXAS ANT-HILL. 289 

many pieces as being thus used several days in succes- 
sion. 

" The doors remain open to give exit and entrance to 
the swarms of leaf-gatherers until morning when they 
are gradually closed, the process continuing in some 
cases until 10:30 a.m. In shutting up the house the 
minors appear to begin by dragging the scattered refuse 
toward the hole. One by one they are taken in, and the 
ingenuity shown in this is very great. My field note- 
book is full of sketches showing the progress, step by 
step, of gate-closing, and the admirable manner in 
which the workers proceed by properly adjusting the 
longest stalks and leaves that can stretch across and 
wedge into the mouth of the gallery, and then laying 
the shorter one atop of these. (Fig. 93.) 

" But I cannot dwell upon these details. As the hole 
gradually fills up, the smaller castes of workers ap- 
pear upon the field and take up the work to which their 
slighter frames are adapted. The last touches are care- 
fully and delicately made by the minims who, in small 
squads, fill in the remaining interstices with minute 
grains of sand ; and finally the last laborer steals in 
behind some bit of leaf, and the gate is closed. It then 
presents to the casual observer the appearance which I 
have described, and which is shown in the cut, of a 
small heap of dry chips accidentally accumulated upon 
the ground/' 

I was delighted to note the interest with which my 
friends followed this description, and how eagerly they 
hung upon my words. Several drew a deep breath and 



£70 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM, 

tittered various exclamations as I concluded, and when 
I called attention to a figure which I had drawn, show- 
ing a gate when closed, and the same when opened, 
even Sarah left her recess in the shadow of the kitchen 
door to look at it. 

" An' what do they go thro' all thet bother for ?" at 
length she asked. I hesitated a moment, but observing 
that the question voiced the wish of others, was about 
to speak, when Dan took up the answer for me. 

" Bress yo' heart, honey," he said. ""What do yo\ 
shet yo' doahs fer '? Ef eber dar wur a 'tickler body on 
dat subject uv shettin' doahs, it's yo', Sairy Ann. 
An' I's done said, many en' many's the time, dat de 
'mount uv bother 't yo'd make 'bout dem ole doahs 
uv yo's, is onreasonable out uv all perportion." 

" Onreasonable !" cried Sarah, quite thrown off her 
guard. "That's the way with you men — alius the 
way. Do ye call 't onreasonable to keep flies out of 
the kitchen w'en ther wuss 'n the plagues uv Egypt ; 
an' to keep draughts off 'n the bread dough, an' — but 
w'ats the use 'n talkin' V" She had retreated to her 
kitchen door by this time, and turned to hurl at her 
venerable tormentor a question which she was wont to 
shout at him many times a day. " I'd jist like to 
know w'at doors 'er made fer, ef not to shet ?" 

"Ho, ho," laughed Dan, clasping himself in his 
arms, and rolling his body in his usual way when 
greatly amused ; "ho, ho ! Dat's zactly wat de ants tink 
about it, Sary Ann ! W'y didn't yo' start out wid dat 
quest'n, an' den yo' needn't 'v axed nuffm' 'tall." 



A TOUR THROUGH A TEXAS ANT-HILL. 271 

When the amusement which this little episode pro- 
duced had subsided, I resumed : 

*' At first I contented myself with looking for these 
gates in the near vicinity of the central mound or bed r 
but I soon found that there were many more openings. 
Indeed, one scarcely knew where he might stumble 
upon a group of the little miners crowding in busy 
groups out of holes in the grass, carrying pellets of 
earth, the product of their underground excavations. 
I never saw any but the smaller forms or minims en- 
gaged in this service of digging. They were night 
workers, and at times, as I moved over the ground 
thirty or forty feet from the central live-oak mound, I 
would see shining in the lantern-light among the grass 
a white ' dumping ' which showed where a bevy of 
masons were at work. They had tapped the white 
adobe clay that lies several feet underneath the upper 
soil, and the nature of the pellets which they were cart- 
ing out showed that they were cutting rooms and gal- 
leries in that stratum. The accumulation outside the 
opening presented quite the appearance of a mimic 
railroad dumping, with a gang of laborers at work ; the 
minims issued from the cavernous shadows trembling 
under the weight of the white pellets borne before and 
above their heads, crossed the heap until the edge was 
reached, and then ' dumped ' their load. It was quite 
a comical sight to see some of them at this point. 
They raised themselves upon their hind legs, thrust 
their heads over the edge, and with a saucy jerk flung 
down the bit of clay. Others would put a fore-paw to 



A TOUR THROUGH A TEXAS ANT-HILL. 273 

either side of the face, and striking forward with the 
legs, accelerate the movement of the pellet. Others, • 
again, contented themselves with simply thrusting the 
head beyond the margin of the dump and dropping 
their load from the jaws. Here is a sketch of one of 
these mason groups engaged on a dumping." (Fig. 94.) 

" Certainly these little fellows have amazingly inter- 
esting parts," remarked Penn Townes ; "but they 
must be a great plague to the horticulturist. Is noth- 
ing done to destroy the creatures ?" 

"Oh, yes, there are various ways for their destruc- 
tion ; indeed the formidable nature of the insects' 
depredations has developed a class of men whose 
special business is to exterminate them. I heard of 
one at Austin, who had long followed the business of 
digging out nests, and was known as the ' Old Ant 
Man.' I saw some of his work — great holes, the size 
of a small cellar, from which vast formicaries had been 
literally dug out. I heard of another person who, 
being of an inventive turn, had devised a machine 
which dispenses with the laborious method of the old 
Austin ant man. I was fortunate enough to get one 
of his circulars, and here it is, with the wood-cut to. 
illustrate the mode of operation. The cut, to be sure, 
is of a most primitive type, and looks as though it 
also might have been manufactured by the inventor of 
the machine. But it is very interesting, if not artistic,,, 
for it gives us some insight of an ant-bed, as seen by 
an experienced practical observer. Of course he has 
only made a rough diagram of a nest-interior, but you 



274 



TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 



see that it shows a network of galleries, uniting caves of 
various sizes, just as I have described it. (Fig. 95.) 
" The ' Insect Destroyer ' works about in this wise • 




FIG. 95. — A PATENT ANT EXTERMINATOR. — FROM THE 
INVENTOR'S CIRCULAR. 

alternate layers of ignited charcoal and sulphur or 
similar materials are laid in a hollow dug around one of 
the gates, and surrounded by a ' smoke chamber. ' In 
one case a bellows, in another an air-pump, is attached 
to this chamber, and as the combustibles are blown 
into a flame, the gas thus generated is also forced down 
the galleries into the rooms, and of course suffocates 
the ants. The inventor, as you see, here advertises 
4 the largest bed of Cutting Ants completely destroyed 
in twenty to forty minutes.' " 

" Dear me!" exclaimed Abby, " that is surely a fell 



A TOUR THROUGH A TEXAS ANT-HILL. 275 

destroyer ! He must have got this hint of exter- 
minating emmet cities by raining fire and brimstone 
upon them, from the story of Sodom and Gomorrah ! 
But see ! here is a confirmation of your account of the 
location of gates at distant points ; our Texas artist has 
put little puffs of smoke curling up from holes way out 
here in the field." 

" Does the machine work satisfactory ?" asked Hugh. 

"Really, I cannot tell you, though I tried to ascer- 
tain that fact. But, if you have a mind to experi- 
ment, note the advertisement : ' Price, for Farm-Eight 
and Machine, all Complete, $20.' " 

" Ther's nothin' to expurmint on," answered Hugh, 
laughing, " aroint' this ole farm, 'cept mole runs and 
a few rat holes aroun' the barn ; an' I reckon it ud 
hardly pay to import a colony uv cuttin' ants jest to 
expurmint on them.'''' 

" I am sure that I wouldn't begrudge the money," 
said Aunt Hannah, " if the inventor would guarantee 
that his machine can smoke out our red house-ants." 

"Bed ants, Aunt Hannah !" exclaimed the Mistress. 
"You surprise me! I thought there wasn't enough 
encouragement in the way of stray crumbs of any sort 
around your house to justify even a red ant in venturing 
upon the premises." 

"Catherine Mayfield," responded Aunt Hannah, 
with a little show of warmth, "thee must know that 
the matter of dirt has nothing to do with the presence 
of ants. They are tidy creatures enough and know 
how to pick- up a living in the tidiest housekeeper's cup- 



276 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

boards. There are some insects, I grant thee, whose 
presence is a proof of uncleanliness, but it is no discredit 
to any houseekeeper to have red ants at times." 

"An' that's the mortal truth, Aunt Hanner," re- 
marked Sarah, who had been, again allured from the 
kitchen shadows by the nature of the conversation. 
"I've tried no end uv scourin' an' scrubbin' ; an' after 
I'd hed my closets all swep' an' garnished, and pol- 
ished to boot, along ud come them pesky mites uv 
critters, like the cast out devils in the Scripter, an' ud 
enter in bringin' ther neighbors with 'em, an' make 
things wuss 'n ever. For my part I don't see w'at sich 
any miles wuz made fer, nohow ! ' ' Having thus deliver^ 
her mind and started a problem that has puzzled wiser 
heads, she returned to her seat at the kitchen stove. 



CHAPTER XV. 

THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH. 

The subject of two of our most interesting Conver- 
sations—the Music of Insects— was introduced by a 
casual discussion between Sarah, Hugh and Dan. The 
autumn air, ever since our advent to the old farm, had 
been full of the shrilling of crickets, and the noisy 
vocalization of katy-dids. As the Fall advanced the 
notes grew fewer and fainter. Silence fell upon the air 
after the light, early frosts, which was broken once 
more when the returning warmth of October's mellow 
suns allured the insects from their refuge in holes, under 
stones and in crevices of trees. The call of the katy-did 
at last ceased ; the crickets creaked on through the 
dreamy haze of Indian summer, then fell into silence 
over all the fields, leaving only here and there a for- 
tunate adventurer to push his way into human habita- 
tions, and from the shelter of friendly wall-crannies or 
the warmth of a log-fire figure with his monotonous 
chirrup as the "Cricket on the Hearth.' 1 (Fig. 96.) 

One evening Hugh and Dan were sitting on the bench 
beside the back-kitchen door, smoking their pipes and 
exchanging views upon the merits and demerits of in- 
sects of various sorts. One of the pleasant results of 

our Conversations has been to supply our regular and 

37? 



278 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

occasional workmen with a theme for intelligent discus- 
sion. We have been surprised — as they themselves have 
been — to see how much they have been stimulated to 
observe the natural objects and phenomena which con- 
tinually fall in their way. Before this Fall these had 
been nearly disregarded, or passed with a careless eye, 
and usually with a wrong idea of their nature and re- 
lations. Xovv, everything about the farm, especially of 
an insect kind, is sharply scrutinized. These obser- 
vations are compared and canvassed among them- 
selves, and often referred to me for decision and further 
information. 

We congratulate ourselves on this result, because 
whatever quickens the intellectual life of working 
people, or induces them to close and careful observa- 
tion of matters around them, and deepens their interest 
in the world through which they move, goes very far to 
raise the quality of the laborers and enhance the value 
of their service. Certainly, this is an incidental result ; 
one, indeed, that we had not counted much upon ; but 
the fact that the happiness and intelligence of my 
humble friends have thus been promoted has been a 
strong stimulus to me to persist in my course. 

One of these discussions was in full progress between 
Hugh and Dan on the evening to which I allude. 
Sarah was busy at the kitchen table that stood by the 
open window just above the bench on which the men 
sat, and so could join in the conversation without inter- 
rupting her work. A lull in the talk gave her an oppor- 
tunity to change the subject to one on which she 






THE GRIGKET ON THE HEARTH. 



279 



evidently had strong views — crickets. She took hei 
stand on the kitchen stoop, for better effect in uttering 
her opinion, and with hands 
(one of which grasped the dish- 
towel) resting in a favorite at- 
titude upon her hips, she began : 
"It's all werry well to talk 




FIG. 96. — THE CRICKET OX THE HEARTH. 

about the peert habits an' sich uv 
them critters, but ther's one inseck 
that I hain't no use fer no how, and 
thet's the cricket." 

"W'y, w'at's the matter 'th the cricket?" asked 
iiugh. 

" Its etarnal creak, creak, cree-eek ! That's w'at's 



280 TENANTS OF AJST OLD FARM, 

cfcie matter ! I can't abide it. 'T seemed to me that 
ther wus a dozen uv 'em in my room last night, an' I 
never closed my eyes a blessed minit fer the noise they 
made. Tho', fer thet matter, I reckon ther' wan't 
more'n one atter all. But, lawsamassy ! w'at a cree- 
cree-cree-in'' it did keep up !"■ 

Tlie cook bent forward, and made such an odd, em- 
phatic, and indignant imitation of the cricket's chirrup 
that the men laughed aloud. 

" Oh, yes ; it's mighty nice fer folks as sleeps like 
posts 'n pillars to laugh at others, but if you wus as 
restless o' nights as I am, an' 'ad been robbed uv a 
whole blessed night's sleep, ye'd laugh on t'other side 
uv y3ur mouths, I kin tell you." 

Sarah was notorious^ a sound sleeper, but that fact 
did not prevent her from indulging an infatuation 
which has fallen upon many wiser people, of lengthen- 
ing a few wakeful moments into as many hours. It is 
curious how people lose the power of computing time 
in the dark ! 

" But that isn't the wust o' crickets — ther noise 
ain't," continued Sarah. " I'd most as lief hear a hoot- 
owl ur a whip-poor-will under my windy a-nights as 
hev a cricket a-creak-creakin' in mj'- room. It's an 
omen uv death 'to some one uv the family, ur some near 
relation, and it jest sets me all uv a chill to hear 'em. 
I'd like to kill the whole nasty, coffin-creakin' brood ! 
Thet's my opinion about crickets !" 

" Well, Sarah !" said Hugh, puffing a cloud of smoke 
into the air, " if that is so, I guess there mus' be an 



THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH. 281 

awful mortality goin' on purty stiddy among folks's re- 
lations in these parts, fer I never know'd a Fall around 
here that the crickets didn't holler like the nation. 
W'y the fields's full uv 'em, and some uv 'em alluz 
manage to creep in doors. Now, fer my part, I alluz 
heerd tell that the cricket was rather lucky 'n other- 
wise." 

"So'tis, Sary Ann, so't is," said Dan. "Yo'sall 
out dar 'boout de crickets." 

" Wat do you know about crickets, Pd like to 
know ?" exclaimed Sarah, evidently scenting a contro- 
versy. 

"I knows a heap, Sary Ann — a heap!" was the re- 
joinder. 

The old man took a deep whiff of tobacco, then folded 
his arms over his knees, lowered his body upon his 
arms, and shutting his eyes, dropped into a droning, 
subdued tone, as though he were speaking to some one 
in the air. 

"Weu I was a pickaninny, in ole Marylan'," he 
said, "not mo'n knee high to a duck, my mammy — a 
Yirginny woman she wuz — wunst cough t me killin' a 
cricket. I kin see des's plain's day de awful look on 'er 
face es she grabbed me, en signed de cross ober me, en 
den shuk me tel I farly chatter'd. 

" 'Doan ye nebber do dat agane, chile,' she said. She 
wuz so skeered thet she panted fer breaf, and could 
skarcely speak a word. 'I know ye done 't widout 
a-thinking, but hit's awful wrong to kill crickets, 
'spec'lly dem as 's in dohs. Dey's de sperits uv ole 



282 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

folkes, honey !' She drapped her bref en spoke'n ? 
whisper 'et farly made my blood run cold. ' Dat's w'a 
cley is, chile — ole folkses w'ats dead"n gone, en done 
come back to sit in dar oleco'ner by de kitchen hearth. 
Dey hadn't otter be harmed, en woe's dem w'at kills 
'em.' Dat's jes w'at she said, en I 'member hit es 
though it happened yestahday." 

Dan slowly raised himself, took a deep, long pull at 
his pipe, then closing his eyes, again resumed in a low, 
solemn tone : " Dat — bery winter — my mammy died! 
an' to make t'ings wus-'n-wus, de nex' summer ole 
Mars sot all his niggers free, 'en we uns uz moved up 
hyar inter Pennsylvany. Hit alius 'peared to me, ahter 
dat, ez dough I wuz 'sponsible somehow fer po' 
mammy's def, en fer hevin' to leave ole Marylan', too. 
Ts been back dar sence, but my ole 'oman she wouldn't 
stay ; but dar's no kentry like a-dat. Dat's w'y I says, 
Sary Ann, et I knows a heap aboot crickets. An' I 
does, I kin tell ye !" 

Sarah was silenced. She was so keenly sensitive to 
the class of emotions that Dan's tale was calculated to 
stir up, that she sat down upon the stoop quite sub- 
dued. Hugh Bond, however, was not much given to 
superstition. He had, indeed, imbibed some of the 
notions current among his class, but held them in a 
very superficial way, more as an indifferent habit of 
thought than with any sincerity of faith. Dan's story, 
therefore, made no serious impression upon him. In- 
deed he was rather amused by the manner of his old 
companion, and the effect o r his tale upon Sarah. 



THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH. 283 

At last he broke the silence : 

" Well, Dan, that's certainly a solemn account of 
things. But, accordin' to my mind, you hain't made 
out a very clear case agin the crickets. It looks to me 
about as broad's long, an' a lee tie more so. If the 
crickets wuz responsible fer affairs at all, the loss uv 
your mammy is purty well balanced by the freein' uv 
all your master's slaves. You don't 'pear to reckon 
much on that, I 'low ; but, I rether 'spect thet you 
wouldn't find many uv the party to agree with you ; 
an' I 'magine you'd sing another tune yourself ef you'd 
had to take the changes and chances uv a slave's life. 

"I remember heariu' somethin' uv this talk about 
crickets w'en I was a boy, but as I recolleck it was kind 
of betwixt an' between your notion and Sarah's. It 
was about like this : If crickets has been livin' in a 
house fer a long time, air then up an' leaves uv a 
sudden, it's a sign that some evil '11 befall the family, 
p'r'aps the death uv some member. But then, on the 
contrary, the return uv these insecks after they've been 
absent is a sign uv good luck ; in fac', I alius heerd 
that the very presence uv crickets wuz counted lucky. 

"But the way I look at it, there's a heap o' humbug 
about the whole thing, not to call it wus'n that. Now, 
jist think a minit. Here we are, callin' ourselves 
Christian folks, an' believin' in a Providence thet rules 
the world. An" yit we sit down an' talk uv the Father 
Almighty Ruler uv Heav'n an" earth turnin' roun' and 
killin' off a poor ole woman all along uv an innocent 
baby killin' a cricket. Fer my part I hain't no notion 



284 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

that the Lord consults crickets ur any other sort uvbug 
about the gover'ment uv human beins. But supposin' 
we ax Mr. Mayfield about this matter. He's chock full 
uv all kin's uv inseck larnin', an' '11 straighten it out 
fer us." 

So it came about that the crickets were made the sub- 
ject of an evening's discourse, and the topic broadened 
out into "Insect Music." Fortunately, Dr. Goodman 
had an engagement to preach and conduct a children's 
service in the "Blue Church," a free place for public 
religious service in our neighborhood, and as he was 
to be our guest, drove over Saturday afternoon, and 
was thus present at our Conversation. 

^ Without stopping at present," I began, " to settle 
the points raised concerning the popular notions about 
crickets, I would like you first of all to know something 
about the natural history of the insects themselves. 
They belong to the sub-order Orthoptera, which may be 
briefly characterized as having free biting mouth parts, 
with highly developed organs of nutrition and diges- 
tion. The first pair of wings are somewhat thickened 
to protect the broad net-veined hinder pair which fold 
up like a fan upon the abdomen, and the hind legs are 
large and adapted for leaping. The larvre and pupae are 
both active, and closely resemble the imago or perfect 
insect. Most species are terrestrial, having no quali- 
fications for water life, and the most typical forms have 
remarkable powers of flight, besides leaping powerfully. 
The grasshopper is the type of the group, and some of 
its best-known forms are the crickets, grasshoppers, 



THE CRICKET OX THE HEARTH 



285 



locusts, mole-crickets, katydids, cockroaches, walking- 
sticks or spectres, and mantis or soothsa}'ers. " 

"Why are these insects called Orthoptera ?" asked 
Abby. 




FIG. 97. — WHITE CRICKETS, MALE AND FEMALE, FROM NATURE. 
REDUCED ONE-THIRD, 



" The word is composed of two Greek words— orthos, 
straight, and pteron, a wing. The Doctor is quite 
familiar' with the first of these in the theological com- 



286 TENANTS OJB AN OLD FARM. 

pound— orthodoxy. The name ' straight wings ' is 
given because their wings, when not in use, are folded 
lengthwise in narrow plaits like a fan, and are laid 
straight along the top or sides of the back. You will 
notice this by looking at these prepared specimens, 
which I have brought for our use this evening. We have 
several species, natives of our section, representing 
three genera, and besides these the common European 
house-cricket (Gri/llus domesticus), which has figured 
so largely in song, story, and superstition, has been im- 
ported and domesticated in some parts of the country. 
These differ quite widely in their habits, some being 
solitary, some social, some dwelling in the ground, 
some living upon trees, some nocturnal, others loving 
the day. 

" The story of their development is about as follows : 
Most of them deposit their numerous eggs in the 
ground, making holes for their reception with the long 
spear-pointed piercers with which the females are pro- 
vided for this purpose. • The eggs are laid in the 
autumn, and do not appear to be hatched until the fol- 
lowing summer. One of our species, the White Climb- 
ing Cricket ((Ecanthus niveus), differs from her sisters in 
egg-placing [ovipositing). She makes several perfora- 
tions in the tender stems of plants, and in each punc- 
ture thrusts two eggs quite to the pith. These are 
hatched about midsummer, and the young immediately 
issue from their nests and conceal themselves among 
the thickest foliage of the plant. This kind of cricket 
inhabits the stems and branches of shrubs and trees, 



THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH 287 

concealing itself in the day time among the leaves or in 
the flowers. It is to this habit that the generic name 
is due (CEcanthus), a word which means inhabiting 
flowers. (Fig. 97.) 

" After hatching, the young crickets, in common with 
all the Orthoptera, very closely resemble the adult in- 
sects in form, and differ from them chiefly in wanting 
wings. They move about and feed precisely like their 
parents, but moult or change their skins repeatedly be- 
fore they come to their full size. This corresponds to 
the grub or larval stage in other insects. 

"The next stage is also quite different from that of 
moths, butterflies, and beetles. These insects, you 
have already learned, pass into a state of inactivity and 
rest, in which they lose the grub-like or larval form 
which they had when hatched from the egg, and be- 
come the pupa or crysalis. This resembles a little 
more nearly the mature form, but is soft, whitish, and 
with the undeveloped wings and legs incased in a thin, 
transparent skin, which impedes all motion.' 1 

" Do we understand you to say," asked the Doctor, 
" that the cricket does not pass through the crysalis 
stage ?" 

" Precisely. On the contrary, in the pupa state 
crickets do not differ from the young and from the old 
insects, except in having the rudiments of wings and 
wing-covers projecting, like little scales, from the back 
near the thorax." 

u And is that the case with all the Orthoptera ?" 

"Yes ; grasshoppers, katydids, locusts, and all the 



288 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

rest have the same peculiarity in their development. 
These Orthopterous pupae are active and voracious, 
and increase greatly in size, which is not the case with 
insects that are subject to a complete transformation, 
for such never eat or grow in a pupa state. If you will 
catch a dozen grasshoppers and locusts at a venture, 
in a mid-summer field, you may easily notice these 
differences in size and in the length of wings, showing 
the adult from the less mature forms. When fully 
grown the Orthoptera cast off their skins for the sixth 
or last time, and then appear in the adult or perfect 
state, fully provided with all their members, with the 
exception of a few kinds, which remain wingless. In 
fact, the slight changes which crickets and all the Or- 
thoptera undergo in their progress to maturity are 
nothing more than a successive series of moultings, 
during which their wings are gradually developed. " 

" I have seen it stated," said Abby, " that we have no 
house-crickets in America. And indeed I cannot re- 
member ever to have heard. them in-doors in my native 
State, Massachusetts." 

"Dar's plenty uv em in ole Marylan', 'tany rate," 
observed Dan ; " dat am a fac', I shore yo' — fiel'-crickets 
en house-crickets, too. En es to bein' hyar in Pennsyl- 
vany, jes yo' ax Sary Ann dar ! W'y deys lots on 'em 
in dis hyar ole place !" 

" Yes, and there is nothing better known to the coun- 
try people of our border states than the ' Cricket on the 
Hearth ;' I have often met them in the West inhabiting 
chimney places and first-floor apartments of dwellings. 



THE CRICKET ON THE SEARTH. 289 

My experience of old Pennsylvania houses in autumn 
is not very extensive, but I have met them here, and 
know certainly that they abound." 

"I have never passed a winter," said the Doctor, 
" without hearing their music in our parsonage, and I 
have often heard it in my various preaching tours 
while domiciled in country hotels and houses." 

" Hark !" cried the Mistress, springing to her feet. 
The suddenness of the movement and the sharpness 
of the exclamation startled us all into silence. Every 
eye was turned wonderingly upon the Mistress, who 
stood erect in the ruddy glow of the hickory-wood fire, 
pointing with one arm toward the upper corner of the 
chimney. 

"Crick-crr-rr-ick ! — rr-r-rick /" 

The silence was broken by a shrill, creaking note 
issuing apparently from a pot of artificial flowers that 
stood on one side of the broad stone mantle-piece. 

It was the " Cricket on the Hearth !" 

A merry laugh and a hearty round of applause from 
clapping hands greeted the advent of the little musi- 
cian whose timely note had now settled the question 
which the Schoolma'am had raised. 

Old Dan looked up from his lew perch, and rolled his 
eyes and rocked his body in ecstasy. " Dar it be, dar 
it be !" he exclaimed. " Dar's good luck shore to de noo 
family in de ole house. De sperits uv de ole folks hes 
come back, en dar's a blessin in it ! Hi, yi ! Ho, ho, 
ho!" 

Dan's speech awoke a fresh burst of merriment, in 



290 . TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

the midst of which Aunt Hannah's reproving voice was 
heard : " Daniel, Daniel ! thee is too provoking with thy 
childish superstitions. Thee has been taught better 
than that by the good Friends who once sat by this 
hearth-stone, and whose spirits are in a Better Home 
or they would surely grieve over thy folly." 

"Well, Aunt Hannah," I said, interrupting the si- 
lence which this remark had caused, " we musn't be too 
hard upon Dan. You know the proverb, ' It's hard to 
teach an old dog new tricks.' At all events we are 
much obliged to our little friend in the chimney corner 
for this very remarkable and timely contribution to our 
conversation. For my part I shall accept it as a good 
omen, without endorsing Dan's peculiar notion as to 
' sperits.' " 

Aunt Hannah shook her head soberly ; but the Mis- 
tress looked up with a happy and approving glance, 
and I turned once more to our subject. 

" Crickets, are for the most part, nocturnal and soli- 
tary insects. That is, they live alone, concealing them- 
selves. by day, and come from their retreats to seek their 
food and their mates by night. They sit at the doors of 
their caves and chirrup away for hours together. The 
hearth-cricket belongs to this class. Our common 
species are the, short-winged Gryllus (Gryllus abbreviated 
Serville), which is about three-quarters of an inch long, 
of a black color, with a brownish tinge at the base of 
the wing-cover, which is sometimes wanting in the male ; 
the Black Cricket, or Pennsylvania Gryllus {Gryllus 
Pennsylvanicus Burmeister), which is quite black, and 



THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH 



291 



measures six-tenths of an inch in length (Fig. 98) ; and 
Gryllus neglectus Scudder, which diners from the last- 
named by having a shorter ovipositor.* 

" Then there are the field-crickets. Besides the white 
climbing cricket ((Ecanthus), which I have mentioned, 




EIG. 9b. — BLACK CEICKETS (ORYLLUS PENNSYLVANICUS), FROM 
NATURE, REDUCED ONE- FOURTH. 

there is a wingless species (Nemobius vittatus), the 
Striped Cricket. It is very small, about four-tenths of 
an inch long, and varies in color from dusky brown to 
rusty black. This is a social species whose individuals 
associate in great swarms, feed in common, frequent 
our meadows and road-sides, and so far from shunning 

*. Scudder now considers this also G. Pennsylvaiiieus. 



292 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

daylight, seem to be as fond of it as other crickets are of 
darkness. 

" Now we are read}' to consider how and why the 
crickets make their music. The old insects, for the most 
part, die on the approach of cold weather ; but a few 
survive the winter by sheltering themselves under 
stones, or in holes secure from the access of water. Of 
these are the solitary stragglers who make their way into 
our houses, and warmed up by the genial fire to some 
dim suggestion of summer, are awakened into a sense 
of their forlorn estate, and creak out their loneliness to 
some imagined mate. The same sounds are heard over 
all our fields, and almost without cessation from twi- 
light to dawn during our autumn months. There is no 
music in summer, for pairing does not begin until Fall, 
and the cricket's music is a love-call. It is the male's 
signal to his mate, and if ever there was a persist- 
ent, vociferous and self-satisfied serenader it is he." 
(Fig. 99.) 

'• Do you tell us that the female doesn't sing ?" asked 
Abby, with some surprise. 

"Neither males nor females sing, for the insects 
have no vocal organs. But the gift of music, such as it 
is, is bestowed upon the male alone. Whether Madam 
Cricket is a loser thereby ma} T be doubted, but the 
human species is the gainer ; for, if Nature had en- 
dowed both sexes with the power of shrilling, the night 
discords would have been scarcely bearable." 

"Does that fact apply to all Orthoptera ?" asked the 
Doctor. 




FIG. 99.— THE WHITE CRICKET'S SERENADE 



2d* 



294 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

" Yes, grasshoppers, katy-dids and locusts all keep 
their music-making among the males." 

/'What a strange contrast with the human family I" 
said Penn. " With us now the sweetest singers are 
always of the fairer sex." 

" Are you quite sure of that ?" suggested the Doctor. 
"Is not that statement drawn from your courtesy 
rather than from the actual facts ? If one were to fol- 
low the subject throughout the various races of men, or 
even trace it among civilized nations, it might be found 
that at least the chief music-makers of our own species 
are of the male sex. Certainly, it cannot be questioned 
that the great masters of music are and have been men. 
In the more perfect and complex organization of man- 
kind it is a matter of course that the song-gift should be 
largely shared by the female ; but the primative order 
of Nature, as Mr. May field has shown it to us in the 
male insects, is probably so far preserved as to give man 
superiority over woman as a music-making creature— 
a superiority which is most unquestionable in the mat- 
ter of instrumental music. It occurs to me, however, 
that there is here an analogy even more curious and 
striking. It is remarkable that among mankind also 
music has ever found and still finds one of her widest 
spheres of use in affairs of the heart. It is the natural 
expression of the deepest passion that men as well as 
insects know — love. The soul of music is emotion, and 
the profound passions of love, religion, and joy of victory 
have ever been voiced in rythmic speech and melo- 
dious notes. 1 ' 



THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH. 295 

"I have been thinking," observed Penn, apparently 
addressing himself to his mother, "that if music has 
such a noble origin and use in nature as to utter the 
love of one creature for another, the testimony which 
our people — the Friends — bear against it might well be 
reviewed." 

" Our people," answered Aunt Hannah, " bore their 
testimony chiefly against the unspiritual and carnal use 
of music in the worship of God, and I do not perceive 
that the world has ceased to have need for a clear testi- 
mony in that particular. Perhaps our fathers carried it 
a little too far when they opposed the private use of 
music, but thee knows that human nature is apt to go 
to extremes, and the wise and good men of old chose 
to be at least on the safe side. 

*'I will not pretend to give an opinion upon the views 
of our learned friend the Doctor. They may be true ; 
but I can say that I know people who have a very in- 
tense power of loving who have no music in their souls ; 
and some who can sing to the fullest admiration of the 
world's people who are as shallow in their affectional 
natures as a babbling brook. Now, I wouldn't expect 
thee, Penn, if thee should ever fall in love, to vent thy 
feelings in a moonlight serenade, for thee knows thee 
can't tell 'Yankee Doodle' from 'Old Hundred,' or 
'Home, Sweet Home' from 'Rosin the Bow.' " 

Penn blushed deeply under this home thrust, while 
his mother continued : " And yet I know that thee has 
a very deep and tender nature. But all this is out of 
place, perhaps, and, if I am not mistaken, out of point, 



THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH. 297 

too. For what argument can one draw to an}- subject 
pertaining to music from the discordant, ear-piercing 
creaking of a cricket ? Quaker as I am, I would be 
sorry to dignify such noise by so high a title." 

"Oh, no !" exclaimed the Mistress, " don't say that ! 
On the contrary, I love the cricket's chirrup, and think 
it very sweet music, indeed. But there is no account- 
ing for tastes, and no reconciling them in this matter 
as in many others. What is music for one person is 
clamor and discord to another. 1 ' 

" Dat is jes so !" said Dan, who appeared to be much 
impressed by the last remark. "I was remarkin' dat 
t'other day wen some one saved dar wahn't no music 
en a conk-shell. Now, fer my part, w'en I's hungry 
and tired wu' kin en de harves' fiel' and Sary Ann comes 
out to de ba'n yaa, an blows dat conk uv hern fer 
dinna', an' de toot-too-too ! comes a rolliu' ober de fiels, 
hit seems to me dar's no music out ob Canaan et's sweet- 
er'n dat. DaVs de kin" ob cricket on de hearf dat suits 
my taste — jes' at dem times." 

Sarah scarcely knew whether to receive as compli- 
mentary or the reverse Dan's comparison of herself and 
her conch-shell to an insect that she detested ; but 
finally joined in the laugh which the conceit had occa- 
sioned. 

By-the-way, this old-fashioned dinner-call which used 

to be popular among farmers' wives in early days in 

Pennsylvania, is one of Sarah's particular vanities. 

The. conch is her own property, and she brought it 

with her- to our service, pleading for its use at least 

19 



298 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

when the workmen were afield. The oddity pleased 
the Mistress, and indeed we all now have a sort of pride 
in Sarah's shell, which she sounds not only with thorough 
gusto but with the skill of a Triton. In my rambles I 
have often heard with high satisfaction its midday or 
evening notes, mellowed by distance and associated 
with home and good fare, echoing over the meadows 
and through the waving corn. 

Sarah keeps* it suspended upon a rustic bracket of 
oak-forks above the kitchen hearth, so that Dan's 
metaphor had a special appositeness which the family 
at least appreciated. 

u Isn't it time for us to go back from our digression V 
I suggested. "If you are quite satisfied with your 
philosophizing over the cricket's music, suppose we 
turn our attention to the question how the music is 
made." 



CHAPTER XVI. 

MUSIC-MAKING INSECTS. 

The instruments by which the male cricket produces 
the sounds which have given such celebrity to this 
insect, form a part of the wing-covers. The base or 
horizontal and overlapping portion of these organs 
near the thorax is convex, and marked with large, 
strong, and irregularly curved veins. These veins run 
through the middle portion of the wing. When the 
cricket chirrups or shrills he raises the wing-covers a 
little and shuffles them together lengthwise, so that the 
projecting veins of one are made to grate against those 
of another. If we seek an analogy for this action 
among musical instruments we must select the violin, 
whose sounds are produced by the rubbing of the bow 
against the strings, or the banjo, harp and guitar, 
whose sounds are evoked by striking the fingers upon 
the strings. In fact it is quite as much like a file or a 
watchman'.s rattle. 

" Do all insects make their music in the same way?" 
asked Abby. 

" The sound-producing organs are constructed on the 
same general principle, but there is much difference in 
details. In the katydid for example, the musical in- 
struments, are a pair of taborets. Most of you are quite 



300 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

familiar with the note of this insect, which is one of the 
best known sounds of our autumn evenings. The ap- 
pearance of the insect is less familiar. Here it is. (Fig. 
101). This is a large insect, measuring from the head 
to the ends of the wing-covers more than an inch and "a 
half; the body is an inch long, is of a pale green color, 
the wing-cover and wings being somewhat darker. Its 
thorax is rough like shagreen, and has somewhat the 
form of a saddle, being curved downward on each side, 
and rounded and slightly elevated behind. The wings 
are rather shorter than the wing-covers, and the latter 
are very large, oval and concave, and inclose the body 
within their concavity, meeting at their edges above 
and below, something like the two sides or valves of a 
pea-pod. The veins are large, very distinct, and netted 
like those of some leaves. There is one vein of larger 
size running along the middle of each wing-cover resem- 
bling the mid-rib of a leaf. 

"The taborets are formed by a thin and transparent 
membrane, stretched in a strong, half oval frame in the 
triangular overlapping portion of each wing-cover. 
AY hen the male wishes to sound his call, he opens and 
shuts the wing-covers so that the frames of the taborets 
rub rapidly and violently against each other. The 
mechanism of the taborets and the concavity of the 
wing-covers reverberate and increase the sound to such 
a degree that it may be heard in the stillness of the 
night at the distance of a quarter of a mile. 

"The music of the katydid is certainly remarkable 
considering how it is produced. It consists of two or 




FIG..101.— KATTD^S ■ MALE (UPPER FIGURE) AND FEMALE. 

NATURAL SIZE. FROM NATURE. 301 



302 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

three distinct notes, almost exactly resembling articu- 
lated sounds. These correspond to the rapidity with 
which the wing-covers are shifted across each other, 
and the note produced is very well expressed in the 
popular name of the insect." 

" Are the katydids nocturnal insects like the cricket ?" 
asked Abby. 

"Yes; during the daytime they are silent, and con- 
ceal themselves among the leaves of trees ; but at the 
approach of twilight they quit their lurking-places and 
mount to the tops of the trees in which .they live. 
Then the males begin the tell-tale call with which they 
enliven their silent mates. The noisy babble breaks 
forth from neighboring trees, until all the groves at last 
resound with the rival notes of ' Katy-did it, Jcati/did V 
The amorous concert continues the live-long night, and 
at the break of day the serenaders creep back to their 
leafy covert." 

"What is the scientific name of the katydid ?" asked 
the Doctor. 

" It.is somewhat formidable — Cyrtophyllus concavus; 
but the name, which indicates a curved wing, is 
quite expressive, as you may see by a glance at the 
insect in repose. 

" The story of katydid's development is but a repeti- 
tion of the cricket's. It is found in the perfect state 
during the months of September and October, at which 
time the female lays her eggs. These are about an 
eighth of an inch in length, and resemble tiny, oval 
bivalve shells in shape. The insect lays them in two 



MUS1C-JIAKIXG INSECTS. 303 

contiguous rows along the surface of a twig, the bark of 
which has been previously shaved off or made rough 
with her piercer. Each row consists of eight or nine 
eggs, placed somewhat obliquely and overlapping each 
other a little, and they are fastened to the twig with a 
gummy substance. In hatching, the egg splits open at 
one end and the young insect creeps through the cleft. 
Its history after that, as I have said, quite resembles 
that of other Orthoptera." 

" Are the katydids and crickets injurious to vegeta- 
tion ?" asked Penn. 

" The katydids do little harm ; but crickets when 
they abound do much injury, eating the most tender 
parts of plants, and even devouring roots and fruits 
when they can get at them. Melons, squashes and po- 
tatoes are often eaten by them, and the quantity of 
grass that they destroy must be great, judging by the 
immense numbers which are sometimes seen in our 
meadows and fields. They are not strict vegetarians, 
however, but devour other insects when they can over- 
power them." 

" Are not crickets, like katydids, named from the 
character of the note which they sound ?" inquired 
Abby. 

"Undoubtedly," answered the Doctor; "and it is a 
curious fact, and one quite suggestive as to the natural 
origin of a certain class of words, that the note of this 
insect has suggested its name in several other lan- 
guages. . The French cri-cri, the Dutch Jcrekel, the 
Welsh cricell and cricella, are, like the English cricket, 



304 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

evidently derived from the creak-mg sounds which the 
insect makes." 

" Speaking of this community of ideas among va- 
rious nations reminds me," I said, "of an odd trick at 
which I saw Harry and one of his little friends engaged 
a few evenings ago while crossing the Brook Meadow. 
The}' were fishing for crickets " 

"Fishing!" exclaimed the Mistress. "Didn't you 
tell us that they and other Orthoptera were not at all 
adapted to the water, which they shun ?" 

" True ; and I am glad that the lesson is so well re- 
membered. The boys' fishing was confined to the 
earth-holes in which the crickets live. They had ants 
and flies fastened to a long straw, which the}* thrust 
down the hole. The cricket is a combative as well as a 
musical animal, and can often be brought out of his den 
simply by intruding the naked straw ; but bait proves 
an additional attraction. Now, the point worth noting 
about this is that the French children amuse them- 
selves by the same method of capturing crickets. In- 
deed, the fact has given rise- to a proverb quite com- 
mon in France, il est sot comme un grillon — he is silly as 
a cricket ! More than that, as early as the days of 
Pliny a similar practice was in vogue, for that author 
tells us that the manner of hunting and catching these 
insects was to tie a fly at the end of a long hair and let . 
it down into the cricket's hole, first taking the precau- 
tion to blow away any dust that might prove a refuge 
for the bait. The cricket spies the fly, seizes and clasps 
it around, and so they are both drawn forth together." 



MUSIC-MAKING INSECTS. 305 

"That is certainly a curious coincidence," said the 
Doctor. " And it is a most interesting point to con- 
sider whether this and such like tricks and games of 
children have been preserved and distributed by tra- 
dition, through all these years, and among the various 
peoples where they obtain, or whether they have sprung 
up spontaneously in the youthful minds of various na- 
tions and ages. In either case we have a fact looking 
towards the common origin and unity of the human 
race." 

''Don't forget, Mr. Mayfield," suggested Hugh, 
"that leetle question between Dan and Sarah as to 
w'ether crickets bring good or bad luck." 

" Thanks for the suggestion ; I have not forgotten 
it. But as this subject is rather more in the line of Dr. 
Goodman's studies than mine, I took the liberty of re- 
ferring it to him. Are you ready to respond, Doctor ?" 

u To be quite candid," he answered, "I have not 
been able to do very much, although I know there must 
be a great deal of material scattered through literature, 
if one could only lay hands on it. However, I have 
brought a few notes. Gilbert White, in his ' Natural 
History of Selborne,' an old-fashioned but to me still 
delightful book, speaks of erickets thus : ' They are the 
housewife's barometer, foretelling her when it will rain, 
and are prognostics sometimes, she thinks, of ill or 
good luck, of the death of a near relative, or the ap- 
proach of an absent lover. By being the constant com- 
panion of her solitary hours they naturally become the 
objects of her superstition. ' This appears to decide the 



306 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

controversy in favor of "both parties, a highly satisfac- 
tory decision. ' ' 

u There," exclaimed Sarah, whose interest in this 
point had once more withdrawn her from the shadow 
of her kitchen door, '.' didn't I tell you so, Dan ? The 
cricket's chirp is a sign uv ill luck— the death uv a near 
relation. I knowed I 'uz right !" And she returned in 
triumph to her seat. 

u HoP on, Sary Ann!" said Dan, " dat's no fa'r I 
Didn't dat aufer 'low dat de cricket brot good luck, too, 
Doctor ?" 

"Yes, he certainly does ; and here's more on your 

side of the question, Dan. Milton, in his ' II Penser- 

oso,' chose for his contemplative pleasures a spot 

where crickets resorted, and he speaks of that insect's 

note as the one token of merriment in the place : 

' Where glowing embers through the room 
Teach light to counterfeit a gloom, 
Far from all resort of mirth, 
Save the cricket on the hearth.' 

".Is that the origin of the popular phrase ' Cricket on 
the hearth ?' " asked Abby. 

"Really I do not know; but it is the source from 
which it is generally quoted. In the same strain, and 
more decidedly, the poet Cbwper writes, in his 4 Ad- 
dress to a Cricket,' chirping on his kitchen hearth : 

" ' Wheresoe'er be thine abode 
Always harbinger of good.' 

M The best-known allusion is found in recent litera- 
ture. Most readers of Charles Dickens will remember 



MUSIC-MAKING INSECTS. 307 

how he embodies the popular superstition in his little 
tale ' The Cricket on the Hearth.' When the carrier's 
young wife hears the familiar note in the chimney- 
place, she exclaims : ; It's sure to bring us good for- 
tune, John 1 It always has been so. To have a cricket 
on the hearth is the luckiest thing in the world !' That 
seems to be the most prevalent superstition. I also 
find reference to the peculiar form of the superstition 
which Hugh Bond remembers. Sir William Jardine 
alludes to it in The Mirror as common in Dumfries- 
shire. These are the most interesting points which I 
have been able to note." 

" Sary Ann!" exclaimed Dan, wheeling his cricket 
around, and gazing into the kitchen shadows, "Sary 
Ann, did yo heah dat ?" There was no reply. 

u Sary Ann," persisted the old man, " Is yo' done loss 
yo' tongue ? W'y doan yo' speak up, den ? Hi ! Didn't 
Itole yo 1 so?" 

But there was no response. Sarah had appropriated 
her portion of the decision, and was too well satisfied to 
review the case. Well, she is not alone in this attitude : 
Why should a man care to hear more testimony, or to 
have more light, when his opinion has once been reason- 
ably well confirmed ? 

Dan, unable to evoke any response from the oracle of 
the kitchen, turned back to his place, made a significant 
gesture upward with his eyes and hands, and chuckled 
softly to himself. 

"Are there any superstitions associated with the 
katydid?" asked the Mistress. 



308 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

" I am afraid that I must refer that question to Dan," 
I answered, laughing. "The only items in that line 
which I ever heard or saw, 1 received from him. 
Come, Dan, here's a good chance to air your ghostly 
learning. Tell us what you know about katydids." 

Dan was never known to deny himself a good oppor- 
tunity to talk, and readily assented ; but he felt bound 
to free himself from what he considered an imputation 
of illicit knowledge. 

"De good Lor' forbid, Mars Mayfiel'," he began, 
" dat I should have anythink to do wid ghos'es. I 
nebber seed a ghos', bress de Lor' ! I's heern tell uv 
folks as ud done got dey knowledge from de ebil 
sperits ; but, sah, I nebber eat ob dat forbidden fruit. 
No, sah, nebba !" 

He placed his hands on his knees, sat bolt upright, 
and uttered the last words with great emphasis, and a 
comical show of dignity. 

"All de larnin' I has 'boot dese tings I done larned 
from ole Marylan' and Virginny folks. I come up hyar 
w'en I wuz a pickaninny ; but I went back to de ole 
state, and lived dar five year. Dat's whar I larned aboot 
sich tings ; not from ghostesses, fore goodness, Mars 
Mayfiel'! Aboot dem katydids, 'taint much et I know, 
but dis is hit : If a katydid comes inter de house, dat's a 
sign, dey say, et a visitor'll soon come widout bein' 
'spected. Ef it sings in de house, dat's a sign some ob 
de family '11 be shore to hab de gif ob music, like de 
banjo or pianner, ur dat like. 

"Den, dar wuz a cur'us story 'boot two sisters wat 



WJSIC-MAKING INSECTS. 809 

fell bof in lub wid one man. I doan' tink dis happen 
in ole Marylan', but in some kentry ober de sea, I 
reckon. De gemmen's name wuz Osca', an' de ladies' 
wuz Blanche an' Kate. Ob course, no man can lub 
two mars'rs, as de Scripter says, en it stans to reason 
he can't lub two misses, nudder. So Osca' falls in lub 
wid Blanche, an' Kate she gits soured, an' falls to 
hatin' her ole lubber. All ob a sudden Osca' done lay 
down an' died ; an' seein' dat, Blanche she goes clar 
crazy, fur she lubbed him powerful, an' raved, an' raved. 
Dar wuz a great mystry 'boot de whole affah. Nobudy 
know'd anythink 'boot it but Miss Kate. She know'd 
mighty well, fur she'd a-killed Osca' herse'f ! 

"In dem fur-away times dey wahnt no true 'ligion 
as dey is nowadays, an' so de people ob dat kentry dey 
had a god w'at dey calls Jup'ter. iSTow, Jup'ter he 
s^es how tings was a-goin', en he done tuk de sperit ob 
young Osca', wat Kate had a-murdered ; an' wat does 
he do but turn it inter a katydid ? An' he sots 'im up 
on de tree-tops war Miss Kate wuz a-walkin' wid some 
folks. Jes' den dey wur a-talkin' 'boot how suddent 
like de young man ud died ; an' some un 'lowed he 
reckoned Osca' mought've bin pizened. 

" ' Who could a done it ?' he says, awful solemn like. 
And nobudy answered ; "kase, yo' see, dar wahnt no 
'spicions ob foul play 'gin Miss Kate in de least. Jes' 
den, in de mids' ob dat solemn silence,' de new inseck — ■ 
dat's de sperit ob Osca', yo' know —cried out from de 
tree-top, sharp, en loud, en suddent: ' Katy did it! 
Katy did ! slie did ! ' An' dat's de way dat mudda wuz 



310 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

a-found out, an' dat's how ebry wicked deed hab a voice 
cry in' out somewhar agin it. Dar's no use in talkin', 
mudda will out. Dat's all I know, ladies and gemmen', 
boot de Katydid." 

"What became of Miss Kate?" asked Harry, with 
a child's natural yearning to hear the end of a 
story. 

"Bress yo' heart, honey, dat story stopped jes' a- 
dar. I nebber heerd no end to it at all. But as Miss 
Kate wur a white lady, I reckon nothin' wuz ebber 
done aboot it ; 'less dey woted her non compus, an' shet 
her up awile. But ef she'd a-been a cullud pusson, I 
reckon yo' mout a-guessed dey'd a-made short work ob 
her." 

" Well, Dan," said the Schoolma'am, " that is a very 
interesting romance, certainly, and it carries an ad- 
mirable moral. May I ask if these notions are held 
entirely by your own color in Maryland, or do the 
whites also hold them ?" 

" De cullud folks, Miss Abby," answered Dan, "lies 
many cur 'us notions, dat's a fac, 'boot insecks, en 
aligators, en rabbits, en bars, en all sorts o' beastis. 
Some ob dem, I reckon, come frum dey native kentry, 
whar de sperits lies moh' to do wid &ech critters, I 
s'pose, dan ober hyar in dis Christian Ian'. But den 
de white people has some ob dem berry sayins, too. 
Hit's not all jes' niggah larnin, Miss Abby, no how." 

It was now time, I thought, to bring back our con- 
versation to the sphere of Natural History. Taking 
another insect box from the table, I opened it and 




FIG. 102.— CICADA, FEMALE AND MALE (UPPER FIGURES). LOCUST 
(LOWER FIGURES), DISSOSTEIRA CAROLINA. FROM NATURE. 

311 



312 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

began: "Here are specimens of the most famous of 
all the music-making insects — the Harvest-fly, or 
Cicada. Look at them, Hugh, and then hand the 
box to your neighbor." (Fig. 102, upper figures.) 

Hugh glanced at the pinned specimens, and at once 
exclaimed : " W'y,sir, these haint harvest flies — they're 
locusts." 

" Are you quite sure, Hugh ?" 

u Oh, yes, sir! I've seen thousands uv 'em — the 
seventeen-year locust. An' ther's another kind thet 
comes every year, or mebbe they're only sort o' strag- 
glers. But I know 'em well, sir." 

Several of the company were quite as positive as 
Hugh in their identification of the insect, and for a 
moment I found my entomological reputation in peril. 

"Well," I resumed, "having sufficiently enlisted 
your attention, I may assure you that- you are both 
right and wrong. You are right, according to the 
popular name of the insect, but utterly and grossly 
wrong as to the true title. There is about as much 
likeness between this creature and a locust as between 
a horse and a cow. There are few American entomolo- 
gists who have not often been compelled to explain 
the wide and fundamental difference between these so- 
called "locusts-" of the United States and the " true 
locusts " of Holy Scripture and our Far West. The 
latter (Fig. 102, below) really do often " eat every tree 
which groweth for you out of the field," as they did" in 
the days of the plagues of Egypt ; while the former 
having no jaws to eat with, and only a beak to suck 



MUSIC-MAKING INSECTS. 313 

sap with are physically incapable of eating anything 
at all. 

" The two kinds of insects do not even belong to 
the same order, or to the same grand group of orders. 
The former are "Suckers" (Haustellata) ; the latter 
are " Biters " (Mandibulata). The former belong to the 
order Homoptera, the latter to the order Orthoptera. 
The former have their front wings glassy and trans- 
parent ; the latter have them more or less leathery and 
opaque. The former have a mere apology for antennae, 
which the general observer would entirely overlook ; 
the latter have quite conspicuous and rather long 
antennae. In short, what people call " locusts " in 
America are called "Cicadas," or "Harvest-flies," in 
Europe ; and what in the Old World are known as 
"locusts" are called " grasshoppers" in the United 
States. This popular error has been the cause of 
much confusion, and is greatly to be regretted ; but 
one almost despairs of correcting the absurd blunder, 
at least in this generation. 

" We have three or four species of Cicada in our coun- 
try ; two of these appear annually : a small spring 
Cicada (Cicada riruosa), which begins to be heard a 
little before the middle of June ; and the large autum- 
nal species (Cicada pruinosa), which is probably the 
best known of all. Then we have two periodical species : 
that remarkable and famous insect the so-called seven- 
teen-year locust (Cicada septendecirn), and its close 
ally, the thirteen-year Cicada (Cicada tredecim). Few 

animals have so remarkable a history as the two last 

20 



314 TENANTS OF AJ\ OLD FARM. 

named, but before we consider that, let us look at their 
musical organs, and compare them with those of the 
cricket and katydid. 

u The males alone are musical, and their well-known 
rattling buzz is a love-call to their silent mates. The 
instruments by which the sounds are produced are a 
pair of kettle-drums, as they may be called, situated 
one on each side of the body. These can be plainly 
seen here just behind the wings. These drums are 
formed of convex pieces of parchment-like membrane, 
gathered into numerous fine plaits, and are lodged in 
cavities on the sides of the bodies behind the thorax. 
They are not played upon with sticks, of course, but by 
muscles or cords fastened to the inside of the drums. 
When these muscles contract and relax, which they 
do with great rapidity, the drum-heads are alternately 
tightened and loosened, recovering their natural con- 
vexity by their own elasticity. Our Cicada may, there- 
fore, be called a drummer." 

u But Mr. Mayfield," interrupted Harry, "a drum- 
head don't tighten and loosen in that way. You 
tighten it up, and keep it tight, or it wouldn't drum at 
all." 

"Of course, Harry," I replied, "we can only speak 
in figures when we compare the sound-producing or- 
gans of insects to musical instruments of any sort. All 
I mean is that the principle upon which the Cicada's 
note is produced is like that upon which sounds are 
brought out of a drum-head. Let us see if this is not 
so. Here is a sheet of tin which I have laid upon the 



MUSIC-MAKING INSECTS. * 315 

table to illustrate- my point. It is not flat, but is bent 
into little rolls and hollows. I put my finger upon one 
of the elevated parts, and push it down, and remove 
my finger, so. It makes a loud, rattling noise. I re- 
peat the motion rapidly a number of times, and you 
hear a succession of these sounds." 

" Certainly they are distinct enough, but they can 
hardly be called musical," remarked the Mistress, 
laughing, as the loud clatter of the tin sheet resounded 
through the room. 

" True enough ; but is a kettle-drum any more so ?" 
queried Aunt Hannah. 

" I am not so much concerned about the sesthetical 
part of my illustration," I replied, "as the practical. 
Now, Harry, observe, when the drumstick falls upon the 
tight drum-head, it pushes it down just as my finger did 
the tin sheet ; when it is lifted the drum-head springs 
up again, and that motion produces a sound not unlike 
that which I have just made. As the skin out of which 
the drum-head is made is stretched over a hollow cylin- 
der, or 'barrel,' the vibrations of the air are greatly in- 
creased, and so also is the intensity of the sound. Do 
you understand that, Harry ?" 

tc I think I do, sir," said the boy. 

" Very well ; it is quite in this way that the Cicada's 
note is produced. These convex membranes or drums 
of which I spoke are the drum-heads. But where 
are the 'barrels 1 over which they are stretched? 
Here they are. There are certain. cavities within the 
body of the insect which may be seen on raising two 



316 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

large valves beneath the belly, and which are separated 
from each other by thin partitions having the trans- 
parency and brilliancy of thin and highly polished 
glass. In most of our species of Cicada the drums are 
not visible on the outside of the body, but are covered 
by convex triangular pieces on each side of the first 
ring behind the thorax, which must be cut away in 
order to expose them. Now, if we raise the large 
valves, of which I spoke, there is seen close to each side 
of the body the little opening like a pocket in which 
the drum is lodged, and from which the sound issues 
when the insect opens the valve." 

" Sir," said Harry, "you have shown us the drum- 
head and the drum-barrel, but where are the drum- 
sticks ?" 

" You forget ; I have already spoken of them. They 
are the muscles or cords fastened to the inside of the 
drums, by which the heads are made to rapidly tighten 
and loosen. Unfortunately, I cannot show you these 
without better optical aids than we have here ; but you 
must take their existence on faith or authority, as one 
lias to do very many things in Natural History. The 
effect of the rapid" alternate tension and relaxation of 
these drum-stick muscles and the membrane attached 
to them, is the production of the rattling buzz, which 
constitutes the familiar music of the cicada. And now 
that I have given my illustration, I. shall ask Harry to 
give one which he has prepared at my request." 

Harry blushed and hesitated, but finally took from 
his pocket an instrument with which my own boyhood 



MUSIC-MAKING INSECTS. 317 

had been quite familiar. It was a little hollow tube of tin, 
over which a stiff piece of writing-paper was stretched 
and securely fastened. This Harry called the "buzzer. " 
Through two holes in the paper was drawn a horse- 
hair, which at the other end was looped around a stick. 

Harry took his stand in the middle of the room, 
touched the tip of the stick to his lips, and then rapidly 
whirled the implement through the air. The hair 
straightened out, the buzzer revolved, the loop tightened 
upon and moved around the stick, and amidst the laugh- 
ter and plaudits of our company ; the room was filled 
with a shrill, quivering, rattling noise : 

" Cr-reek ! Cr-r-eek ! crt/ee-ee-ee-e-e-ick-i-i-ii-ii-ee-ee- 
eek /" 

The sound thus produced was an admirable imitation 
of the cicada's note, and Harry's illustration was 
warmly applauded as a great success. 

"Now," said Abby, "you must explain for us the 
philosophy of Harry's toy. How does it make this 
noise?" 

" The principle is a very simple one. The horse-hair 
loop rasps against the stick as it is twirled around, the 
vibrations thus produced are carried along the hair to 
the stiff paper, which acts as a sounding-board to them. 
The tube or little box serves as a resonator, to increase 
the intensity of the tone. The notes, of course, are 
varied according to the velocity of the 'buzzer.' The 
toy may be made with a spool, the hole through which 
is sufficient to make a good resonator." 

The Doctor had followed Harry's movements with 



ais 



TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 




FIG. W6. — THE MUSIC OF BOYHOOD, A REMINISCENCE : " "WATCH- 
ING 1HE HOSTS OF INSECTS CREEP OUT OF THE GROUND." 



unusual interest: There was a pleasant, very pleasant 
smile upon his lips, and as he gazed into the embers of 
the hickory-wood fire there was a far-away cast in the 
eyes. He drummed upon the table with his fingers in 
an abstracted way, and at last exclaimed : 

" Well, well, well I I had dreamed myself quite into 



MUSIC-MAKING INSECTS. 319 

boyhood once more. The old log schoolhouse seemed 
to be rising there out of the ashes, and I could fancy 
myself standing among the pkv\nates and companions 
of three-score years ago — alas ! few of them remain now 
in the flesh! — whirling my toy 'locust,' and watching 
the hosts of insects creep out of the ground and emerge 
from the cracked shells which we gathered in handfulls 
from the trees, among whose branches noisy males were 
rolling their rattling drums ! (Fig. 103.) Sixty years ! 
Has it been so long ago ? How vividly this little toy's 
familiar music has revived the memories of those days. 
Ah ! — But excuse me, friends, for obtruding these re- 
collections upon you. Really, I was carried away for 
the moment !" 

He bowed several times in a gentle and deprecating 
way toward the circle, but amid the radiance that 
glowed upon his face, I could see two round tears 
twinkling through his eyelids. Dear good man ! Alas, 
he, too, since then, has joined the playmates of those 
early days in 

" The innumerable caravan which moves 
To that m3 T sterious realm where each shall take 
His chamber in the silent halls of death." 



CHAPTEK XVII. 

"SERMONS IN" — ANTS. 

On Sunday morning we worshiped in the " Blue 
Church." Doctor Goodman preached to a little com- 
pany of the country-folk a sermon whose character was 
well described by a plain old Scotchman whom I over- 
heard as the congregation was retiring : " Ah, that was 
one o' the comfortin' an' helpfu' sort !" 

I had observed, during one of my summers at Marple, 
that the Doctor delivered his sermons, which he read 
quite closely but with remarkable earnestness and force, 
from manuscripts of a uniform number of pages, bound 
up like a school copy-book. 

" Why do I do this ?" he said, laughingly, in answer 
to my 'question. "Well, the truth is, I find myself 
compelled to put a bridle upon my lips. As I grew 
older, I noticed that I was inclined to prolong my ser- 
mons to a wearisome length. I therefore took to read- 
ing ; and in order to keep within due bounds I made 
trial of the exact number of pages required to occupy 
the half hour. I then had a lot of these " copy-books " 
made, each containing that trial number of pages. 
Xow when I have filled my book I stop work, and go 

into my pulpit quite assured that I will not trespass 
320 



" SERMONS IN ' '—ANTS. 321 

upon my people's patience. Isn't that a pretty good 
device, to keep a garrulous old parson within bounds ?" 

The hearty laugh with which the Doctor put the ques- 
tion showed how much he enjoyed the trick \>j which 
he had flanked the infirmities of gathering years, and 
held the interest of his auditors. A wise winner of souls 
was he ! 

But on this occasion the "copy-book" was left at 
home, and in simple words, delivered with quiet ear- 
nestness and a tenderness that touched all and melted 
many hearts, he held up to the people the great love of 
the All-Father. The text was, " Yea, I have loved 
thee with an everlasting love. " When it was announced, 
the Calvanists in the congregation nudged each other, 
and with significant nods of the head and brightened 
eyes intimated that they expected a sermon upon 
ki Electing Love," and heartily approved it. The Ar- 
minians, on the other hand, for the congregation was a 
mixed one, bristled up, set their faces with a pugnacious 
cast, and looked at the preacher with the fixed, hard 
gaze of those who mean to hold fast their own opinions 
against all comers. 

As the sermon advanced these countenances changed ; 
lines of elation and approval, of combativeness and 
dissent alike faded out, and the faces upturned toward 
the pulpit wore a common look (varying with the points . 
of the discourse) of interest, assent, hope, religious joy. 

One might, perhaps, have found the Doctor's theo- 
logical bent by slight logical soundings ; but it did not 
so, lie upon the surface as to mar the satisfaction of any 



S3& TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

auditor. The Eternity and Infinity of Divine Love- 
that was his theme. Man pre-existant in the loving 
thought of God throughout the everlasting past ; man 
surrounded by the loving care of God in the present ; 
man throughout the everlasting future, immortal in the 
rest of God ; man's Redeemer, the highest commenda- 
tion of the divine love — these are great thought*, but 
simply presented, with quaint and apt illustration, they 
were not beyond the conception of the humblest mill- 
hand in the meeting. 

The morning sermon was a happy preparation for the 
afternoon service, which, as the Doctor announced, was 
especially for the young people, although adults were 
also invited. He well knew that grown-up folk enjoy 
and profit by such services quite as much as their 
juniors. They drink in greedily addresses made to the 
young which they would have resented highly if made 
to themselves. What a curious compound human 
nature is ! 

At three o'clock of the afternoon the approaches to 
the church were lively with' little troops of children, 
whose bright dresses showed against the green meadows 
as they came across lots. Farmers came in their bug- 
gies, germantowns and farm-wagons, until the cozy 
horse-sheds in ,the rear of the edifice were full, and 
horses had to be unhooked and hitched to the wheels of 
vehicles halted here and there over the yard. 

Many of these comers were casual attendants, having 
various places of worship scattered throughout the 
country-side, but had gathered to the "Doctor's appoint- 



"SERMONS IN 1 '— ANTS. 323 

inent," as is the goodly fashion ot our rural parts, 
without respect of religious preference. Even the 
Friends, who had held their morning worship in the old 
Springfield Meeting-house, sent a fair delegation, al- 
though some were still of too tender conscience to wait 
upon the preaching of a "hireling minister " Among 
these was Aunt Hannah ; hut it cost the good woman 
a sore, struggle to stay at home, be it said to her credit. 
Penn Townes, however, was not prevented by such 
scruples from stopping his smart open buggy at the old 
farm-gate and driving Abb} T Bradford to the meeting. 

The regular attendants at the Blue Church were the 
teachers and the children of the Sunday-school. The 
latter were gathered chiefly from the families of the oper- 
atives in a woolen-mill that stood in an adjacent valley. 
and a fine paper-mill that occupies a romantic site on 
the banks of Crum Creek. A few kind and Christian 
hearts had been moved with pity over these scattered 
sheep of the Good Shepherd, and had organized for 
them a Sabbath-school, which has been maintained, 
often under sore difficulties, for a number of years. A 
part of the good Doctor's missionary work was to look 
after this school, which, however, was strictly a 
" Union " school, without any denominational bias or 
connection whatever. 

The building in which this assemblage was held is 
worthy of brief notice. It was erected b}' one of the 
numerous descendants of Jane Townes, and set apart for- 
ever to the worship of the Almighty without cost or let 
to any of whatever denomination, with one important 




- 



m 



h 




324 




"SERMONS IN"— ANTS. 325 

exception. Just in front of the pulpit hangs a framed 
card on which the patron's wish is printed, with this 
proviso : that no one who denies the proper divinity of 
our Lord Jesus Christ or the doctrine of the Atone- 
ment shall ever be permitted to preach in the place. 
The house was built at the time when the conflict was 
at its height that divided the Society of Friends into 
the so-called "Orthodox" and " Hicksite " camps. 
The feelings awakened by that controversy are crystal- 
ized in this proviso, and the " Townes Free Church " is 
free only to orthodox preachers. However, as there are 
very few persons of a different religious bent in the 
whole country-side, the prohibition has not proved of 
much practical disadvantage. 

The house is built of a blue limestone which, in 
spite of the ill-fitting coat of whitewash that now 
covers it, shows plainly enough the reason for its popu- 
lar name, " The Blue Church." It is a plain rectan- 
gular edifice, with a pitched roof, without spire or 
belfry. There is a door at either gable, over one Of 
which is placed a rude water-shed. A plain porch 
covers the front door, which is shaded by a horse- 
chestnut, upon whose lower branches hangs a hornet's 
nest. 

On either side of the door is a marble tombstone. 
In the north tomb repose the ashes of the' venerable 
builder of the church. A plain slab rests upon low 
marble walls, and bears the name, age, and following 
inscription: " Where he was born, there he lived and 
died. An honest man and a useful citizen." There is 



326 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

added the familiar passage from Job : " I know that 1113 
Redeemer liveth." 

A fine large willow tree stands in front, and over 
hangs this grave. The tomb on the opposite side is l» 
slab raised upon six marble pillars, and bears the name 
of a favorite cousin of the patron. Those tombs serve 
as seats for the rustic congregation while waiting for 
the commencement of service, and tramps who camp of 
summer nights in the horse-sheds play cards upon them 
in the moonlight. The entrance to the church is from 
the Baltimore Pike by a large wooden gate hung in the 
stone wall that encloses two sides of the lot. One cor- 
ner of the churchyard is devoted to burial purposes. 
Here stands another large weeping -willow, and tall 
bushes of osage orange aiid sumach overshadow the 
wall. Short mounds of buried children fill the space, 
though larger graves show where the " rude forefathers 
of the hamlet sleep." In the rank grass and among 
the vines that here creep over the ground and swathe 
the graves dwell undisturbed hosts of insects, especially 
crickets and grasshoppers. (Fig. 105.) Among these 
the great green grasshopper abounds one of the noisiest 
of our musical insects, and day and night alike his 
shrilling is heard among the graves, making this rural 
"• God's-acre " a very garden of insect song. 

The plain stone building is a pretty object, standing 
in its two-acre field, embowered among trees. Just 
across the meadow is a farm, once a country seat of an 
eminent president of the Pennsylvania Railroad. Ad- 
joining that, the cupola of " Shady-bank,' ' a fine 



"SERMONS m"—A2TTS. 



897 




FIG. 105. — THE GRASSHOPPER'S DIRGE AMONG THE GRAVES. 



country home, rises above the tops of a noble grove of 
trees. 

Inside, the building is exceedingly plain. It is fash- 
ioned after the manner of a Quaker meeting-house, hav- 
ing a " gallery," or long rows of elevated seats along the 
middle, opposite the door. A pulpit is arranged at the 
central part of the gallery, beneath which is a chancel- 
like space, where stand a reed organ and a superintend- 
ent's desk. Comfortable sofa-benches, with reversible 
backs, are ranged in front and on either side of the 
pulpit. In front of the chancel stands a large cannon 



828 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

stove, whose long pipe penetrates the ceiling. The 
walls are unadorned, and the whole interior is plain 
enough to suit the severest taste. 

It was well ornamented, however, on that day, lor as 
we entered, bright faces were turned toward us from 
every seat and aisle ; even the door spaces were 
crowded, and anxious eyes peered in from groups that 
stood in the churchyard outside. In the " gallery," at 
one side, stood a tall easel, on which was placed a pack- 
age of large white card-boards. 

This addition to the usual furniture of the place had 
excited much curiosity among the audience — young and 
old. Indeed, the curiosity had begun earlier in the 
day, among the family at the Old Farm ; for, as Hugh 
lifted the mysterious parcels into the farm-wagon, 
among the chairs on which his family were seated, there 
were many wonderings over them. 

'■' Wat on yarth is de Doctor gwain to do wid dem 
sings ?" asked Dan, who was perched on the driver's 
seat, and faced quite about to watch Hugh's proceed- 
ings. "Whew! dat now," as the heavy packet of 
card-board was lifted in, " 'pears 's dough it mought be 
Moses' Table ob de Law. But as fer dat," looking at 
the easel, "I can't make nuffin out on 't. Dat 's w'at 
de Misstis had her picter ob de Wirgin Mar}' and de 
baby Jesus on — her 'Donna, she calls hit. But Massa 
sakes ! de ole Doctor 's down oh 'Donnas an images an 
all sech wanities in de house ob.de Lord I He haint 
gwain to fall down befo' no sech golden calf, is he ?" 

Abby, too, was on the qui vive; but if the Mistress 



" SERMONS IN "—ANTS. 329 

guessed the Doctor's purpose, she kept her own coun- 
sel, and put off the inquisitive Schoolma'am with the 
remark that neither the Doctor nor her husband had 
taken her into confidence. 

The dominie's little secret was soon disclosed. When 
several songs had been sung by the children, he rose to 
make his address. After a few sentences of kindly 
commendation, he said : 

"And now, my dear young- friends, I have prepared 
for you an especial treat, You have often heard my 
voice telling }^ou of the goodness and wisdom of our 
God. I shall let another speak for me to-day — a dear 
friend, whom, I am sure, you will be glad to hear." 

In the brief pause that followed many eyes roved up 
and down the front benches in quest of some known 
minister or public speaker who might undertake such a 
duty. It was very plain upon the faces before me that 
the matter was yet wholly in doubt. 

"Who could it be?" whispered a farmer's wife at 
my side, as she plucked a clove-seed from a small store 
stowed in the finger of a glove, and bit off the end. 

Xo one ventured an opinion, and the Doctor con- 
tinued : " One of the greatest of English poets has said 
that we may find 

" ' books in the running- brooks. 



Sermons in stones and good in everything.' 

" I believe that thoroughly. The Bible is a book of 

Nature. The inspired writers, through whom the Holy 

Spirit spoke, were in full svmmthv with the world of 

21 



330 TEXAXTS OF AX OLD FARM. 

created things around them. Birds, beasts, flowers, 
trees, mountains, brooks, stars, moon and sun, clouds, 
rain and snow, waving crops of gathered grain, all were 
seen by them with interest and pleasure, and made to 
speak for them some truth or lesson of daily life. 
Well, if all these things have in them a sacred thought 
for us, shouldn't we try to find out what that thought 
is ? I have often taught you out of this Revelation of 
Inspiration " — and he laid his hand upon the Bible ; "I 
have asked another to teach you this afternoon out of 
the Eevelation of Creation. If it be true that we may 
find 'sermons in stones,' I think it is equally sure that 
we may find sermons in insects. I have therefore great 
pleasure in introducing to you my very dear friend, Mr. 
Fielding May field. 1 ' 

There ! the Doctor's secret was out. Yes, I had at 
last consented, after much hesitation, to talk to the 
young people about some of the Bible insects. All 
other difficulties being removed, the Doctor had over- 
come -my scruples as a layman against seeming to con- 
duct a religious service by declaring that he was to be 
and would be the officiating clergyman, and that I 
surely might, at his appointment and request, address 
the children. • It was my own suggestion that the mat- 
ter be kept secret, for I wished thus to avoid the attend- 
ance of such curious people as might have been attracted 
simply by the unusual nature of the address. 

The announcement was followed by a buzz of whis- 
pered wonder and expectation. As I sat opposite some 
of the members of the old-farm family, I could note 




FIG. 106.— AGRICULTURAL ANTS ENGAGED IN CUTTING 
GRASS. 



331 



333 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

the effect upon them. The Mistress flushed, turned pale, 
then flushed again, and I caught the light of a tear 
twinkling in her eye ere she dropped her face upon her 
fan. Abby started as though struck, looked at me, 
then at the Mistress on one side, then at Penn Townes 
on the other, clasped her hands — T thought at first she 
meant to clap them — drew her lips under her teeth as 
though to suppress an audible utterance cf surprise, 
and at last a radiant smile broke over her glowing face. 
Old Dan sat on the corner of a bench before the stove, 
bowed over on his arms and rocking his body tc and 
fro. As the Doctor spoke my name he sat bolt upright, 
dropped his broad palms with a loud smack upon his 
knees, rolled his e}^es to their full rotundit} r , pursed up 
his thick lips, and blew through them till he fairly 
whistled. As T rose to go into the gallery I heard him 
say in a deep sotto voce : 

"Bress de Lor'! Mars MayfieP ! Well, dat takes 
de cakes !" 

THE LECTURE. 

" I am sure you are all surprised," I began, " to hear 
my name spoken as one who shall address you to-day. 
You cannot be more surprised than I was when our 
good friend the Doctor first asked me to occupy this 
place-. I have never before addressed a religious meet- 
ing of any kind. Perhaps I speak this to my shame ; 
but my duty has never seemed to lie in that direction, 
and 1 mention it now simply to say that the whole re- 
sponsibility of my appearance here on this boh' day as 



" SERMONS IN"— ANTS. 333 

an instructor in sacred truths must be placed upon this 
good man who is to-day our bishop. 

" Some of you, perhaps, have heard that many years 
ago I gave a large part of my time to the study of in- 
sects — those little creatures who are popularly known 
among us as 'bugs.' I am sorry that people do not 
speak more correctly in this matter. There are indeed 
some insects who are properly called by that name ; 
but all insects are not bugs, indeed a very small 
proportion of them belong to that group. These 
favorite studies of mine have led Dr. Goodman to ask 
me to speak about the insects of the Bible. 

"Among those which the Good Book mentions is 
the ant I have known city children who never saw an 
ant, or at least had no notion at all what that insect 
looks like — in fact, couldn't tell an ant from a grass- 
hopper. But among these country children before me 
T am sure that there is not a single one who doesn't 
know just how an ant looks. However, I will venture 
to show you a picture of one." (Fig. 106.) 

T turned the outer card upon the easel, and amid 
many half-suppressed "Oh's!" exhibited a colored 
figure. This, by-the-way, was one of a series of draw- 
ings which'I had prepared at one time for a course of 
lectures. They- had received a resurrection from the 
store room of my city business place where they had 
long been buried amid sundry rubbish, and were for- 
warded to me by express when the Doctor's request 
gave occasion'for their use. 

" These figures show two ants "known as the AgricuT- 






:,0^y 



< 



A 






% 



" SERMONS IN ' '— ANTS. 335 

tural Ant of Texas, oftener called by the people of that 
State the ' Stinging Ant,' because its sting is as severe 
as a hornet's. They are cutting down a blade of grass. 
One has laid his sharp jaws at the very root of the 
plant, while the other appears to be swaying down the 
leaf in order to increase the effect of the cut. If this 
is done on purpose, as it seemed to me when I drew it, 
the ants are working on the same principle that you do 
when in early autumn you go out with a -hatchet to 
clear away the rank growth of vines along the roadside 
and fences. 

" The next picture will show you the object which 
these little workers have in view. (Fig. 107.) They are 
making a clearing, as I have seen pioneers do in Western 
States when they entered the great forest and began to 
hew down the trees. Many years ago all this beautiful 
country around us was covered with a dense forest, and 
when our forefathers came they chopped away the 
trees and made clearings for their houses and fields. 
£Tow, our Agricultural Ants like to have a clear space 
or yard around their doors, and here they are cutting- 
down the "trees," as these grass stalks must seem to 
them. You notice that these clearings differ in shape 
from our yards and fields, for they are circles or elipses, 
and are always. made as you see them here. It is sur- 
prising to note what vigor the little pioneers have in 
keeping their yards clean. The weeds and grasses grow 
very rank in the rich soil and warm sun of Texas, and 
sometimes when pushing my way through them I have 
come across these circular clearings surrounded on all 



''^Sk 







F 












if/ 



y 



"SERMONS IN"— ANTS. 337 

sides by the weedy jungle, and not a scrap of vegeta- 
tion of any kind upon them. Here is one of these 
jungle-nests. (Fig. 108.) 

" The door or gate of the nest is in the center of the 
yard. It is a single, or sometimes a double, opening, 
which leads down into the ground, where are a series 
of rooms and galleries that I shall presently describe. 
Long roads, usually three or four in number, and occa- 
sionally as many as seven, lead from the } T ard into the 
surrounding grass. They vary in length from forty feet 
or less to three hundred, and are kept smooth and 
clean. Indeed, our farmers would do well to take pat- 
tern after these w r ise little fellows in the matter of 
road-building and repairing, as well as in other things. 
You see these roads in the pictures, gradually narrow- 
ing as they run out into the grass. These are not the 
only ants that have the habit of road-building. We 
have ants in our own State who have great skill in that 
line of public industry ; and here is a pretty under- 
grade highway, made at Rockland, in Fairmount Park, 
by a large colony of ants dwelling there. (Fig. 109.) 
You see how daintily the roads are bowered b} T avenues 
of grass, moss, and wild-flowers. Having told you 
this much, I will now show you what all this has to 
do with, our Sabbath lessons. How many of you have 
Bibles ?" 

The answer to this question quite startled me. From 
every part of the room— to the right and left of me, 
in front of the desk, and even from the chancel-space 
where the children were crowded directly beneath my 




-%& 



338 



"SERMONS IN"— ANTS. 339 

face — more than a hundred hands shot up, and as 
many Bibles of various sizes and styles were held aloft. 
I suppose my surprise was shown upon my face ; the 
audience were infected by the speaker's attitude, and 
looked on silently at the strange scene. The children's 
faces were wreathed with smiles ; the superintendent 
looked up from his seat with a well-pleased counten- 
ance, and broke the stillness with the explanation : 

" We have a ' show of Bibles ' every tSunday, sir. It 
is one of our ways of teaching the children to own and 
use their own Bibles." 

" Many thanks," I said, "for this beautiful lesson. 
It is a new sight to me, and came as a great surprise. 
I never thought to have such an answer to my ques- 
tion. I shall not need to ask this school again, how 
many have Bibles ? Now let us see what these Bibles 
have to say about ants ? 

"Turn to the sixth chapter of Proverbs." 

There was a rustling of leaves, like the moving of 
wind through the tree-tops, as the young hands turned 
over the pages of the Sacred Book. The sound gradu- 
ally died away, as one after another the children found 
the place, until all was still. 

" Now, please, read together the 6th, 7th and 8th 
verses. The Doctor will lead you." 

The old clergyman arose, and the scholars, well used 
to reading in concert, read with him, as with one voice, 
the following words : 

" Go to the ant, thou sluggard ; consider her w r ays, 
and be wise.: which, having no guide, overseer, or 



340 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

ruler, provideth her meat in the summer, and gathereth 
her food in the harvest." 

" Very good ; turn again to the thirtieth chapter 
of Proverbs, and read the 24th and 25th verses." 

The sound of fluttering leaves once more filled the 
house, and then the school read these words : 

"There be four things which are little upon the 
earth, but they are exceeding wise. The ants are a 
people not strong, yet they prepare their meat in sum- 
mer." 

"You thus see," I resumed, "that the wise man 
who wrote the Proverbs believed that the ants of 
Palestine had a habit of storing up seeds of grain dur- 
ing the harvest time. No one appears to have disputed 
this until about one hundred years ago, when an Eng- 
lish naturalist, Mr. Gould, who was also a clergyman, 
discovered that the ants of his country were not har- 
vesters. Other naturalists came to the same conclu- 
sion about the ants of other parts of Europe, and by- 
and-by it came to be the prevailing opinion among 
scientific people that no harvesting-ants existed. They 
said that Solomon, Virgil, Homer, and all the ancient 
writers who spoke of such insects, were in error; in 
fact had mistaken the eggs or cocoons that ants are 
often seen carrying, for grains of wheat, which they 
somewhat resemble." 

"Well, in the course of time, a gentleman living in 
Texas wrote up to our Philadelphia Academy of Sciences 
that there was a harvesting-ant in that State ! The 
account was not generally believed among naturalists, 



"SERMONS IN"— ANTS. 341 

and I resolved to go down to that country and see for 
myself. I have already told you something of what I 
saw, and I will now go on with my story. 

" I pitched my camp on the hills of Barton Creek, be- 
yond Austin, the State capital, and sat down to watch 
beside one of these nests which I have shown you. 
Presently I saw an ant come up out of the gate, carry- 
ing in its jaws something which it dragged across the 
yard, and dumped upon a heap of similar objects, lying 
in the grass at one side. I took up some of these, and 
found them to be the husks of a sort of grass known 
as ant-rice, or needle-grass. That was proof number 
one. 

" Next, I noticed that the ant-workers were continu- 
ally running along the roads, across the yard, and 
disappearing through the gate with some kind of seed, 
which they bore in their stout mandibles or jaws. I 
tapped several of these porters on the back, in order to 
make them drop their burdens, which I then examined, 
and found to be whole seeds of the ant-rice. That was 
proof number two — the ants were actually carrying the 
grain into their nests. 

"Once more, I saw that workers were continually 
leaving the gate and traveling along the roads outward 
toward the grass. I stooped down upon hands and knees 
to follow one of these. Off it went at a lively pace, fur- 
ther and further, until the roadway began to narrow 
into a thin line, when it darted off to one side, into the 
thick grass. It kept me on close watch to keep the 
busy insect in sight. It twisted back and forth, around 



M2 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

and around among the grass stalks, now and then stop- 
ping to put its jaws upon objects lying upon the ground 
which I soon discovered to be fallen seeds. At last the 
fastidious creature found one that suited her. She 
turned this way and that, until it appeared to be bal- 
anced to her mind, then wheeled about, and started 
toward home. 

"What a time she had with that seed! All sorts 
of little obstacles lay in her path — little to us, that is. 
but great to her. There were blades of grass bent 
down to the ground; there were sticks, stocks and 
stones l}*ing in the path ; there were close-growing 
tufts of grass like small thickets in the wa} r . These 
were to be flanked, or climbed over, or pushed through, 
and right nobly the little carrier did her task. Now 
she went straight up and forward ; now she backed to 
this side, dragging her burden along ; now she sidled 
around the obstacle ; now she plunged into a hole, and 
after a moment's rallying bravely mounted the wall and 
went on her way. So she journeyed, winding her 
laborious path through the grass-forest of her harvest 
field until she reached the road. Then, conscious that 
her way was clear, she broke into a smart trot, and 
made straight headway for her nest, and soon disap- 
peared within the gate. The burden which she bore 
was a seed of ant-rice, and that was proof number 
three that this ant, at least, as Solomon said, ' pro- 
videth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food 
in the harvest. ' 

" My next work was to explore the inside of the nest, 



SERMONS IN ' '—ANTS. 



343 




FIG. 110.— GRANARIES SHOWING SEEDS AND STORES. 



or formicary, as it is called. This was no slight task, 
for several reasons. The yards are very wide, some of 
them fifteen feet in diameter, more than half as wide as 
this house, They are made in a stiff, tough earth 
which is difficult to dig ; moreover, the ants carry a 
powerful weapon in the shape of a sting, which they ply 
with great fierceness when their nests are disturbed ; 
and I could not blame them for that, for there are few 
creatures on earth who will not defend their own home. 
I had, therefore, to hire a little army of men to help in 
the digging and to fight off the angry insects that 
swarmed forth to attack us. ^ I was severely stung a 
number of times, but persevered until I had satisfied 
myself that quantities of seeds were stored within the 
formicary. Some of those near the top were yet cov- 



"SERMONS IN" —ANTS. 345 

ered with husks, others further down were shelled, so 
that I could account for the heaps of husks which were 
placed around the margin of the yard. 

u The seeds were stored in small caverns or pockets 
several inches long and about an inch high. Some 
were circular, others semi-circular in shape. Here -is a 
view of a group of these granaries (Fig. 110.) You are 
looking down from the yard into them, remember, and 
of course the roof has been omitted from the picture 
to show you the stores of grain garnered within. Here 
then was proof number four — the ants do store away 
the ant-rice and other seeds, for I found more than one 
kind within their little store-houses and barns. 

"But what do they do with these seeds? Are they 
really provided as 'meat' and gathered for 'food,' as 
the inspired writer says ? I had no doubt about that 
myself; but 1 wanted to prove it beyond question. Of 
course I could not creep down into the nest and live 
there long enough to see the insects at their meals ; nor 
would they came out-of-doors and have an emmet pic- 
nic in the open just to show me how they did. What, 
then, should I do ? I did this : I had a large number 
of the ants shipped to me from Texas, built for them 
small artificial formicaries in my library, and kept 
them during an entire winter under observation. I 
saw many interesting and cunning habits, which I have 
not time to relate to you, but among these was their 
food-habit. I observed that they did eat the seeds 
which I" had taken from their nests, as well as other 

grains, such as oats. They lapped up the oily substance 

' 22 



346 



TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 



from the nut-like 
seeds, just as a cat 
does milk, and licked 
off the starchy 
grains, as I have 
seen children lick a 
candy-stick. Thus 
was added the last 
link to the chain of 
proof that our 
Texas Agriculturals 
are real harvesting- 
ants. 

" These are not 
the only harvesters. It was not hard to discover that 
two species with the same habit live in the Holy Land, 
where Solomon dwelt and wrote, and also in coun- 
tries where Homer andVirgil lived, who also had told 
about the harvesting-ants. You may be very sure, 




FIG. 112. — INTERIOR PLAN OF STORE- 
ROOMS AND GALLERIES. 




/ 






FIG. 113.— OPEN GRANART OF HARVESTING-ANT. 



SERMONS IN"— ANTS. 



347 




X 



FIG. 114. — OCCIDENT-ANT GATHERING SUNF 



LOWER SEED. 



therefore, that these ancient writers made no mistake, 
and that the naturalists who voted them in error were 
wrong themselves. 

"We have other harvesting-ants in our own land. 
Two of the most common objects that attract the eye 
of a traveler upon the Great American Plains are the 
villages of the Prairie-dogs and the cone-shaped mounds 
of the Occident-ant. Here is one of these (Fig. 111. ) 
They are covered with gravel, which the ants bring up 
from beneath, having dug them out in making their 
granaries and boring out pipe-like roads or galleries 
that unite them. TJie granaries are ranged in stories 
one above another, and I traced them as far as eight 
feet beneath the surface. This figure (Fig. 112) shows 
an interior plan of one of these nests, as it was seen 



348 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 




FIG. 115. — GRANARIES OF THE PENNSYLVANIA HARVESTER. 

after one side had been dug away, and this (Fig. 113) is 
one of the granaries cut out of the soil in which it was 
dug. These letters, R, R, (Fig. 112) show store-rooms or 
granaries in which quantities of seeds were placed, and 
these G-, Gr, are galleries that connect them. T saw 
some of these Occident Ants gathering wild sunflower 
seeds in the Garden-of-the-gods, and our next picture 
shows her mounted upon the flower and tugging away 
at a seed with all her might. (Fig. 114.) 

"Indeed, we need not go to Texas or Colorado or 
Florida to find American harvesting-ants. Right here 
in our own neighborhood, in the field in which this 
church stands, in the orchard-walk at Shadybank over 
the way, and in various places around the Old Farm 
where T live, there is a little black ant, the Pennsylvania 
Harvester {Flieidole pilifer, Rogers), who harvests seed, 
and'here is a drawing of two of its granaries (Fig. 115). 



"SEBlfONS IN"— ANTS. 349 

One of the worker-castes is a funny-looking creature, 
having a very large head. It is known as the ' Soldier, ' 
while the other forms are called ' workers. ' 

THE LESSONS. 

"And now, my children, having told 3^011 something 
about that habit which the good Book refers to, let me 
point you to the lessons which it is intended to teach. 
The first is a lesson of Honest Industry.- Turn once 
more to Proverbs, Chapter xxx, and take up the Scrip- 
ture at the verse where we stopped before — the 9th. 
Read, now, the 9th, 10th and 11th verses : 

" 'How long wilt thou sleep, O sluggard? When 
wilt thou arise out of thy sleep ? Yet a little sleep, a 
little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep ! So 
shall thy poverty come as one that traveleth, and thy 
want as an armed man." 

" That is the lesson. If you love idleness and sleep, 
if you grow up to be sluggards, poverty and want will 
sweep down fast upon you like a swift traveler, and 
will conquer and destroy you like an enemy in arms. 
It is the hand of the diligent that shall wax rich. 
Learn to work honestly and lovingly, not simply to get 
your task done and pocket the paj^ for it, but as one 
who loves his business, and is determined to do his 
whole duty to his employer. Drive every nail, spin 
every thread, turn every furrow, sweep every room, 
dust every chair, wash every dish as in the sight of One 
who sees the slightest act and will try all your work. 
Quaint George Herbert has well sung : 



350 TENANTS OF AN OLD FAEM. 

Who sweeps a room as for Thy laws 
Makes that and the action fine." 

The lazy person is always an unfortunate person, 
usually an unhappy and often a wicked one. The poet 
Spencer, in his ' Faerie Queene, ' has well called ' Sluggish 
Idlenesse the Nourse of Sinne.' 

u There is another lesson which I may venture to 
refer to, though I must ask the religious leader at my 
side to enlarge upon it. It is a lesson of forethought 
of that Future which lies before all souls. Old age, 
misfortune, and death hasten upon man like the Winter 
of the year. Would you lay up in Heaven a store of 
good deeds-^-a treasure which cannot be stolen and will 
not decay ? Begin now ! ' Kemember now thy Creator 
in the days of thy youth, ere the evil days come.' This 
is the harvest time for you — for us all. Use it to form 
a character that shall stand the test of an Eternal 
Judge, and to do deeds of goodness, righteousness, 
purity, truthfulness, honor, which shall bless not only 
yourselves but the generation in which you live. A 
recent author thus begins his book : l Some things God 
gives often, some he gives but once. The seasons come 
and go and the flowers change with the months, but 
youth comes ( twice to none.' If the temptation should 
come to you to defer to another, and yet further, and 
yet more distant day, the duty of laying up store of 
spiritual wealth — noble character, kindly deeds .and im- 
mortal Hope through the Saviour of all, then remem- 
ber the teaching of our humble insect friends. 'Go to 



"SERMONS IN "—ANTS. 351 

the ant, thou sluggard ! Consider her ways, and be 
wise.' " 

The Doctor followed with apt and tender words, the 
children sang a familiar refrain, and after prayer the 
meeting was dismissed. 

Was my address a success ? I wondered and greatly 
feared. 

But fche Doctor took my hand, and pressing it warmry, 
looked into my face with his honest, kindly eyes, and 
said: ''Well done! you have taught us all to-day to 
' look from Nature up to Nature's God.' " 

When we had reached home the Mistress came to me 
and said : "It was a sweet surprise. I was never hap- 
pier than this day when I saw my husband standing 
with that holy man in the good work of helping those 
poor children to attain a happier future both here and 
hereafter." 

Thus I was comforted. 



CHAPTEK XVIII. 

SEVENTEEN YEARS UNDER GROUND. ■ 

"We were made happy by seeing the sleek sides of 
Dr. Goodman's old horse, "Bob," stop before our gate 
on the Saturday afternoon preceding our next Conver- 
sation. The dominie had promised to join us, if possi- 
ble, in our concluding study of the natural history of 
the Cicada, and to contribute some notes upon its 
mythology and ethnology. In consideration of this, 
our Conversation was arranged to begin a little earlier, 
so that I might return with the Doctor to the Manse* 
that night, and remain with him over the Sunday. 
Aunt Hannah and Penn were promptly in their places, 
so that our circle was complete. 

"The duration of life in many winged insects," I 
began, "is comparatively short, seldom exceeding two 
or three weeks in extent, and in many is limited to the 
same number of days, or hours. You need not be sur- 
prised, therefore, if I tell you that the Cicada, or Har- 
vest-fly, lives' only a few weeks after its transforma- 
tion." 

"It always seemed very strange to me," said Aunt 

Hannah, " and sad, too, that such beautiful and perfect 

creatures should be doomed to so brief a life. I reniem- 
352 



SEVENTEEN YEARS UNDER GROUND. 353 

ber to have had this thought when I read in an agri- 
cultural paper some time ago of the tribes of ephemeral 
insects which are born, live merrily, grow old, and die 
within the compass of twenty -four hours. That seemed 
to me a great waste of Nature's noble gifts, and I so 
said in the presence of one of our ministers. I was 
much surprised when at the meeting next First Day, 
she was moved to refer to this in a beautiful address 
upon the fleeting nature of our life, and the vanity of 
making so much of it, instead of preparing for a higher 
and nobler state of being." 

k 'I am not surprised, Aunt Hannah," I answered, 
" that you should have fallen into so common an error, 
and your minister was not the first to use the same 
as a text for moral lessons. The great Dr. Franklin 
once published an essay, full of very instructive philo- 
sophy, which he put as an address into the mouth of an 
'Ancient Ephemera,' that had lived to the extreme old 
age of four hundred and twenty minutes ! Like your 
good Friend's remarks in the meeting, his moral 
reflections are admirable, but his entomology is de- 
fective." 

There are, indeed, several flies, known as May- 
flies, or Ephemera that live but a very short time, 
and a few of them only for ten or twelve hours, in the 
winged state. But the larvae of these very same flies 
have lived in the water for nearly a year before they 
left their native element and became denizens of the 
air. Of .course they are insects quite as truly when in 
the larval as when in the imago state, and there is no 



854 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

basis of fact in the metaphor which measures their life 
by a few hours." 

" Thee amazes me, friend May field !" exclaimed 
Aunt Hannah. " Thee is proving a veritable icono- 
clast with thy entomology. First thee has taken out of 
our mouths our life-long associations with the locusts, 
and now thee destroys utterly our notions about the 
Ephemera. I am glad thee has spared the good 
Friend's lesson, at any rate." 

"The destruction of ancient errors is not usually a 
grateful task, Aunt Hannah, especially when they are 
well imbedded in the minds of people. They become, 
by-and-by, as sacred as truth, and any disturbance of 
them pains and irritates like the return of healthy cir- 
culation to a benumbed or frozen limb. However, as 
there is no special interest or principle attacked in this 
effort to bring in a true entomological nomenclature, I 
hope that my friends will be sparing of their indigna- 
tion. 

" What I began to say is this — the Cicadas enjoy but 
a few days of life in the winged state, but in the case of 
the periodical species they are largely compensated by 
a remarkable length of life in their wingless and grub- 
like form. Seventeen years the one species, thirteen 
years the other, live underneath the ground. I can 
think of no parallel case within the whole range of 
natural history. In view of this amazing longevity one 
may well be sparing of sympathy with the winged mu- 
sicians over the brevity of their days. 

; ' Let us trace their history from the deposit of the 



SEVENTEEN YEARS UNDER GROUND. 355 

eggs until the emerging of the winged form. The 
abdominal part of the female Cicada, as you see, is 
conical, and on the under side is a longitudinal channel 
for the reception of the piercer. This organ is further 
protected by four short grooved pieces fixed in the sides 
of the channel. The piercer itself consists of three 
parts in close contact with each other — namely, two 
outer ones, grooved on the inside and enlarged at the 
tips, which externally are beset with small teeth like a 
saw ; and a central spear-pointed borer which plays be- 
tween the other two. Thus this instrument has the 
power and does the work both of an awl and a double- 
edged saw, or rather of two key-hole saws . cutting 
opposite to each other. 

"When the time has come for the female to lay her 
eggs she selects a position near the tip of a twig. The 
seventeen year Cicada has a great preference for the 
oak, next to that probably the hickory, but oviposits in 
almost every kind of deciduous tree, and even in herba- 
ceous plants, and occasionally evergreens. I have 
known Pruinosa to oviposit in a stem of golden-rod. 

" Her method is this : She places her head upward, 
that is, toward the terminal part of the twig, and with 
her piercer saws a longitudinal furrow in the wood. 
Then, with her ovipositor, she forces the eggs a little 
distance down below the external opening. The eggs 
are of a pearl white color, one-twelfth of an inch long, 
and taper to an obtuse point at each end. When in 
the act of cutting she clasps the branch on both sides 
with her legs, and then, bending down the piercer at 



356 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

an angle of about forty-five degrees, repeatedly thrusts 
it obliquely into the bark and wood in the direction of 
the fibres. At the same time she puts in motion the 
lateral saws, and in this. way detaches little splinters 
of the wood at one perforation. The hole is bored 
obliquely to the pith, and is gradually enlarged b}- a 
repetition of the same operation, until a fissure is 
formed large enough to receive from ten to twenty eggs. 
The side-pieces of the piercer serve as a groove to con- 
vey the eggs into the nest, where they are deposited in 
pairs, side by side, but separated from each other by a 
portion of woody fibre, and they are implanted into the 
limb somewhat obliquely, so that one end points up- 
wards. When two eggs have been thus placed, the 
insect withdraws the piercer for a moment, and then 
inserts it again and drops two more eggs in a line with 
the first, and repeats the operation until she has filled 
the fissure from one end to another. Then she removes 
to a little distance and begins to make another nest." 
(Fig. 110.) 

" How long does it take her to do this ?" asked Penn. 

" She is about fifteen minutes in preparing a single 
nest and filling it with eggs." 

" How many of these egg-nests does she have ?" 

"It is not unusual for her to make fifteen or twenty 
fissures in the same limb ; and one observer counted 
fifty nests extending along in a line, each containing 
fifteen or twenty eggs in two rows, and all of them 
apparently the work of one insect. After one limb is 
thus sufficiently stocked, the Cicada goes to another, 




FIG. 116. — EGG-NESTS OF MOTHER CICADA. 



357 



358 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

and passes from limb to limb, and from tree to tree, till 
her store of four or five hundred eggs is exhausted. 
At length she becomes so weak by her incessant labors 
to provide for a succession of her kind, that she falters 
and falls in attempting to fly, and soon dies." 

" Poor thing !" exclaimed the Mistress. 

"Well, I say that it's a mighty lucky thing," Hugh 
remarked, " that so many of them twigs do wither and 
fall, and cause the eggs to die inside uv 'em. I reckon 
tlier wouldn't be twigs enough to accommodate the 
risin' generations ef all them eggs hatched out." 

" Harris says that after oviposition the female saws 
the branch partly off below the eggs, so that the wind 
may twist off the tip end containing the eggs and let it 
fall to the ground. Certainly many of the punctured 
twigs do break off and die, and in years of invasion the 
oak forests often have a gloomy and disheveled ap- 
pearance from the number of branch-tips partly twisted 
off, and hanging with their dead leaves ready to fall. 
But it is doubtful if this is the result of a set purpose 
on the part of the mother Cicada, for a great majority 
of the incised twigs remain green and recover from 
their wounds. Indeed, it is probable that the eggs 
seldom hatch in those twigs which break off and become 
dry, and that ' the moisture of the living branch is 
necessary to the life and development of the egg. In 
the healing of the punctured parts of the limb a knot 
usually forms over each puncture." 

"Doctor," said Abby, who had been examining the 
little bundle of twigs by which I had illustrated my 



SEVENTEEN TEARS UNDER GROUND. 359 

descriptions, "can you tell us what such destructive 
creatures were made for ?" 

" That is a question, I fancy, that falls within the 
province of the naturalist rather than the theologian," 
replied the Doctor, with a smile, wisely declining to 
enter into a problem of that nature. 

But Aunt Hannah was not quite satisfied with that 
view of the matter, and suggested her own opinion by 
a series of questions : " Does thee know, friend Abby, 
why the ten plagues of Egypt were sent upon that 
land ? or why the palmer-worm and the locust and the 
canker-worm and the caterpillar were sent upon Israel 
of old ? Does not the prophet Joel suggest an answer 
when he says, " For the meat offering and the drink 
offering is withholden from the house of your Lord ?" 

The Doctor, who was not proof against this challenge, 
removed the spectacles from his eyes, and with a little 
preparatory " ahem !" turned to answer Aunt Hannah. 
Fortunately we were brought back from this theologi- 
cal digression and saved the impending discussion by a 
bit of hard fact which Hugh Bond interjected. 

" As to them loc — beg y 'r pardon, them Harvest- 
flies, bein' destructive ereeters, I never jes' see it, at all. 
Some folks allers make a poweful fuss over 'em w'en 
they come", and talk about the devourin' up uv every 
green thing, an' so forth. But my exper'ence is that 
ther bark 's wuss 'n ther bite. 

"Now, I never seed any leaves or other green things 
eat up by locusts uv that sort. They does cut off a 
power o' young shoots an' sich, an' sometimes, w'en 



360 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM 

they lights on a young fruit tree or saplin 1 they kills 
hit. But it don't do much harm in ordinar' fur to trim 
off the outer twigs uv trees. The trees make wood 
ag'in, an er not much the wuss fur wear. Ther 's a 
nation sight o' buzzin', an' ez Mr. Mayfield says, the 
woods does hev a sort o' rag-tag look, but it 's more in 
sight an' soun' than in solid harm, I 'm a thinkin'. In 
fac', ther 's a good 'eal more noise 'n execution in an 
army of harvest-flies, jes' like an ole-fashioned militia 
trainin' sham battle." 

" That is very true," I said, " and I 'm much obliged 
to you, Hugh, for saving me the trouble of saying it. 
So you see, Miss Abby, that whatever general princi- 
ple may lie beyond the problem that you started, it has 
no basis of facts to rest upon in the case of the Cicada. 
It is chiefly an example of an tm-scientific use of the 
imagination, excited by that old and false name ' locusts.' 
Shakespeare has said that ' a rose by any other name 
would smell as sweet ;' but there is a great deal more 
in a name than the- poet seems to have thought. To 
quote the language of one of my entomological friends, 
suppose that roses' were popularly called b} r the name 
of that well-known plant that spreads its broad leaves 
along the wooded parts of our Run — the ' skunk-cab- 
bage ' — what "lover would dare to present to his mistress 
a bouquet composed of flowers bearing such an un- 
savory appellation ? Or what lady, if she had such a 
bouquet actually presented to her, would trust her nos- 
trils within a foot of it V Now, because we in America 
have chosen to call what arc, properly speaking, ' Cica- 



SEVENTEEN TEARS UNDER GROUND. 361 

das,' by the ominous name of 'locusts,' people have 
thoughtlessly jumped at the conclusion that they must 
have the same voracious appetite as the 'locusts,' 
whose dreadfully destructive habits are so well de- 
scribed in Holy Scripture. However, this is aside 
from our natural history, to which we had better return. 

" The eggs of the harvest-fly hatch in about six weeks 
after being deposited. The young insect when it bursts 
the shell is one-sixteenth of an inch long: In form it is 
somewhat grub-like, being longer in proportion than the 
parent insect. It is furnished with six legs, the first 
pair of which are very large, shaped almost like lobster- 
claws, and armed with strong spines beneath. On the 
shoulders are little prominences in the place of wings, 
and under the breast is a long beak for suction. The 
little creatures, when liberated from the shell or fine 
membrane which envelopes them after leaving the 
eggs, are quite lively, and their movements are as 
sprightly as ants. Now follows a very interesting act 
of instinct. There the wee bodies are, far up at the 
top of the tree ; but Mature has decreed them a life 
under ground. How do they get there ?" 

"W'y crawl down the tree," exc) aimed Harry. 

" No ; that would, indeed, seem an easy way. But 
many perils might lurk in that winding path along the 
twigs, branches, and trunk. Nature has provided a 
better way. The mother Cicada has fortunately lo^ 
cated her egg-nests near the tips of the outer limbs. 
And now, moved by a law which none of us can pre- 
sume to comprehend, the young inserts run to the side 



362 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

of the twig and deliberately loosen their hold. Their 
specific gravity is so small that they fall through the air 
as softly as a feather. On reaching the ground they 
immediately bury themselves in the soil, burrowing by 
means of their broad and strong fore-feet, which, like 
those of the mole, are admirably adapted for digging." 
(Fig. 117.) 

" This is wonderful !" exclaimed Aunt Hannah, lay- 
ing down her knitting work. " Who would have thought 
to find such wisdom in so insignificant a creature ?" 

" Wonderful, indeed !" added the Mistress, and Abby 
echoed the note. 

"But," queried the Doctor, "is it quite accurate to 
think of such behaviour as you describe as the result of 
wisdom in the young Cicadas ? Doesn't this look like 
a case of fore-ordination in Nature, which requires one 
to postulate an Outside and Infinite Wisdom ?" 

" Let me read you," I responded, taking a volume 
from the table, "what the eminent naturalist, Dr. Har- 
ris, says, an author to whom I am indebted for much of 
the information here given. This is what he writes on 
this point : ' The instinct which impels them [the 
young Cicadas] thus fearlessly to precipitate themselves 
from the trees, from heights of which they can have 
formed no conception, without any experience or 
knowledge of the results of their adventurous leap, is 
still more remarkable than that which carries a gosling 
to the water as soon as it is hatched. In those actions 
that are the result of foresight, of memory, or of ex- 
perience, animals are controlled by their own reason ; 



} Y -^v ^ \v^ 
fee ^l^Jm*-^ rf 




FIG. 117. — A LEAP FOK LIFE— THE CICADA DXDEEfiRODXD. 

36?» 



364 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

as, in those to which they are led by the use of their 
ordinary senses, or by the indulgence of their common 
appetites, they may be said to be governed by the laws 
of their organization. But, in such as arise from spe- 
cial and extraordinary instincts, we see the most strik- 
ing proofs of that Creative Wisdom which has im- 
planted in them an unerring guide, where reason, the 
senses and the appetites would, fail to direct them. The 
manner 'of the young Cicada's descent, so different from 
that of other insects, and seeming to require a special 
instinct to that end, would be considered incredible, 
perhaps, if it had not been ascertained and repeatedly 
confirmed by persons who have witnessed the proceed- 
ing.' And now," laying the book down, " let us go on 
with our history." 

"During their descent into the earth, the Cicadas 
seem to follow the roots of plants. They are found at- 
tached to those which are most tender and succulent, 
which they perforate with their beaks, thus imbibing 
the vegetable juices, which constitute their sole nour- 
ishment." (See Fig. 117.) 

"Is not this an injury to the trees?" asked Penn. 

"Doubtless it often is ; and I am disposed to believe 
that the chief injury done by the Harvest-fly is in this 
stage and manner. Indeed, an examination of the roots 
of a decaying fruit-tree has shown as the cause of dis- 
ease a host of young Cicadas clinging to the roots with 
their beaks piercing the bark so deep and firmly as to 
keep them hanging for half an hour after removal from, 
the earth." 



SEVENTEEN YEARS UNDER GROUND. 365 

"How far down do the Cicadas go?" asked Perm. 
" I have heard said that they burrow to an immense 
distance — ten or twelve feet from the surface." 

" The question is fairly answered by the fact that the 
insects must live upon roots, which rarely descend very 
deeply. Our common annual Cicada, Pruinosa, of 
course lives in this condition for only a twelvemonth ; 
but the young Septendecim spend seventeen years in 
these dens and caves of the earth." 

"What in the world do they do all that time?" 
asked Abby. 

"A hard question," I replied, ." and one must frame 
an answer as much by fancy as by facts. At least we 
may say that they burrow back and forth amid the 
maze of roots, and drink long and deep from the streams 
of savory sap, which they tap with their beaks. They 
thrive and grow in size. They take no end of sleep. 
Doubtless they greet each other in their silent way and 
pass who knows what communications ? in the myste- 
rious language of the mute children of the insect world. 
Maybe they peep and mouse into the tunnels and caves 
of worms, snails, and countless other creatures who 
share with them these Plutonic abodes; and per- 
haps vary the monotony of life, like civilized man, by 
wars of offense and defense. Shall I give further guess ?" 

"No, no !" that is quite enough," Abby laughingly 
rejoined, "to give one a fit' of the blues at the very 
thought. I have often had my sympathies profoundly 
moved over the dreary fate of my fellow-creatures who 
spend their life 



866 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

1 Down in a coal mine underneath the ground, 
Digging dusky diamonds all the year round.' 

" But here is a destnry whose intolerable dreariness, 
even for a young bug, passes imagination, It paralyzes 
one's pity by its very magnitude. Dear, dear, what a 
monotonous fate !" 

" ]STo doubt, Miss Abby, your sympathy would be 
quite wasted upon our Cicada pupae, who are enough 
like many of our own species to find a paradise in the 
most monotonous round of unthinking and inactive ex- 
istence. As the years roll on, the four small, scale-like 
prominences on the Cicada's backs, which represent 
and actually contain their future wings, begin to swell. 
The long period of pubation is nearly done. Indeed 
life, at last, is nearly over, and it is to end in a brief 
glory of sunlight, wings, love and music. There is a 
strange stir in the thin blood of the insects that bids 
them mount upward. They cut their way through the 
soil by cylindrical passages, often very circuitous, the 
sides of which are firmly cemented and varnished so as 
to be waterproof. These burrows are about five-eighths 
of an inch in diameter, are filled below with earthy 
matter removed by the pupa in its progress. They can 
be traced by the color and compactness of their con- 
tents to the flepth of from one to two feet, according to 
the nature of the soil. The upper portion, to the ex- 
tent of six or eight inches, is empty, and serves as a 
habitation for the insect until the period for its exit 
arrives. Here it remains during several days, ascend- 
ing to the top of the hole in fine weather for the benefit 



SEVENTEEN YEARS UNDER GROUND. 3G7 

of warmth and air, and occasionally peeping forth, ap- 
parently to reconnoitre, but descending again on the 
occurrence of wet or cold weather. 

" The advent of hard rains sometimes develops the 
ingenuity of the pupa? in a remarkable way. On one 
occasion, about the time of their first appearance in one 
of our neighboring counties, there fell a series of heavy 
rains. Evidently the expectant Cicadas were seriously 
threatened with a fate like that of the Noachian world, 
and so set themselves to build an ark of refuge. A 
floating retreat was beyond their powers, but they liter- 
ally rose superior to the situation, by carrying their 
burrows above the surface of the ground ! Here is a 
drawing of one of these finger-like turrets, showing 
the exit hole from which the pupa escaped when the 
waters had subsided. Here I draw a section view of 
the turret, which shows the mode of operation. The 
pellets of earth have been pushed up above the surface 
to the height of from four to six inches, leaving in the 
center a gallery about five-eighths of an inch in diame- 
ter a continuation of the underground burrow. The 
outside measurement is about one inch and a quarter. 
The tube from which the drawing is made was a little 
bent at the top, but many turrets were straight and 
several instead of being single branched near the sur- 
face from a main chamber below, and a pupa lodged in 
each branch. You can see that this tube is a continua- 
tion of the burrow, and that the pupa when disturbed 
by the over-wet soil had only to mount to the top of its 
tower and be safe. When the time for transformation 











368 



SEVENTEEN TEARS UNDER GROUND. 369 

came, it backed down the tube and escaped. (Fig. 118.) 
"We have come now to the last stage in the history, 
of this remarkable insect. The period for its great 
change has at length arrived. The seventeen years of 
grubbing in the dark ground are over. The voice of 
Xature is calling within with resistless power, ' Come 
up higher !' The time appointed for escape is usually 
the night. There would seem to be good reasons for 
this, for a host of enemies await them, and at best a 
multitude will perish. Different quadrupeds attack 
them ; birds devour them ; cannibal insects, as dragon- 
flies and soldier-bugs, make them their prey ; even ants 
assail them with success, while hogs and poultry greed- 
ily feast upon them. 

"For several nights in succession the pupae continue 
to issue from the earth. Above fifteen hundred have 
been found to arise beneath a single apple tree, and in 
,:ome places the whole surface of the soil has been cut 
as full of holes as a honeycomb by the eager insects 
breaking through their prison wall from their long con- 
finement." 

u At what time of year does this occur?" Abbey 
asked. 

" The date of egress varies with the latitude. In the 
South the pupse escape in February and March ; here 
in Pennsylvania about the last of May, but in Massa- 
chusetts not until the middle of June." 

" But the yearly kind comes out later 'n that," sug- 
gested Hugh. 

" Yes ; Pruinosa begins to appear with us about the 



370 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

close of July, and for this reason has been called the 
Dog-day Harvest-fly. After the egress they mount the 
trunks of trees or other convenient object, and fasten 
themselves securely by their claws. Then occurs that 
change which most country-living people have watched 
with wonder. After a brief rest the pupae begin to 
cast off their amber-colored skins. These have become 
hard and dry, and the work of emerging is not an easy 
one. 

" At last, after repeated exertions, the shell cracks, 
a slit is made lengthwise along the back, through which 
the cicada pushes its head and body, !N"ext the wings 
and legs are withdrawn in succession from their sepa- 
rate cases. The pupa is an imago now ; at last it is 
free ! It leaves its empty pupa-skin almost entire still 
fastened to the tree, and crawling to a little distance 
awaits the completion of its great change. At first 
emergence the insect is wholly unfit for flight. It is in 
a sort of border state of existence between its old earth 
life and its future air life, and is fit for neither. The 
wing-covers and wings are small and opaque, but, being 
perfectly soft and flexible ,.they soon stretch out to their 
full dimensions. The body is swollen to an unwieldy 
bulk, but in the course of a few hours the superfluous 
moisture has evaporated. The work of transformation 
is ended ; the creature is a perfect insect, with strength 
to mount upon wing and fly. (Fig. 119.) 

" Soon the rolling drums of the males are heard 
sounding their love-call to their mates. In a fortnight 
the mother insect begins to lay her eggs, and in the 




FIG. 119.— OUT OF THE SHELL AT LAST I 



m 



372 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

space of six weeks the whole generation has sunk into 
silence and death. This ends my story ; and now, 
Doctor, I yield theteacher's chair to you." 

"My only difficulty in this case," the Doctor began, 
" is an ' embarrassment of riches,' for the Cicadas figure 
very freely in classic literature. They were especially 
in favor among the Greeks, who regarded them as 
sacred as the Egyptians did the Scarabaeus beetle. 
Indeed the Egyptians also evidently held the Cicada 
in reverence, for, in their hieroglyphics, a painted 
figure of that insect represented a priest and holy 
man, as well as a musician. I have been somewhat in 
doubt whether, in my selections, I may not have con- 
founded these insects with the grasshoppers ; but I 
think that in the following references the true Harvest- 
fly (Tettix in the Greek) is intended. Among the 
Grecians the Cicada was especially sacred to the muse 
of song, and its note bears the same name as the sound 
of the harp. A Cicada sitting on a harp was the usual 
emblem of the science of music. The origin of this 
custom, according to Strabo, was this : Two rival 
musicians, Eunomis of Locris, and Ariosto of Rhegium, 
were alternately playing upon the harp in a musical 
contest when Eunomis unfortunately snapped a string 
of his instrument. The accident would certainly have 
cost him the prize had not a Cicada, pitying the dis- 
appointedmusician, flown to him, and, perching on Iris 
harp, supplied the place of the broken string with its 
melodious voice. Thus it secured to him an eas}', 
victory over his antagonist." 



SEVENTEEN TEARS UNDER GROUND. 372 

"That was very good, indeed, for Eunomis," ex- 
claimed Abb} r , "but did the Cicada have no pity for 
poor Ariosto ? It was partial dealing, I think, for a 
divine insect." 

" True enough, Miss Abby ; but the gods of Greece 
had their special favorites among the mortals, very 
much like the occupants of the political Olympus in 
these degenerate days. You mustn't ask me to defend 
the rather eccentric behaviour of the classic deities ; I 
only tell the story as I find it. 

"The poets seem to have been as partial to the 
Cicada as the gods, for its praise is sung by nearly every 
Grecian bard from Homer and Hesiod to Anacreon and 
Theocritus. Here, for example, is the way in which 
the muse of Anacreon celebrates its virtues : 

" ' Happy creature ! What below 
Can more happy live than thou ? 
Seated on thy leafy throne, 
Summer weaves thy verdant crown. 
Sipping o'er the pearly lawn, 
The fragrant nectar of the dawn, 
Little tales thou lov'st to sing-, 
Tales of mirth — an insect king- 1 

Darling of the tuneful nine, 
Phoebus is thy sire divine ; 
Phoebus to thy note has given 
Music from the spheres of. heaven.' 

" You can readily see from this how the highest com- 
mendation of a singer was to excel the Cicada in song. 
Naturally,- the metaphor was carried into the realm of 
oratory, so that the music of Plato's eloquence was 



374 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

only comparable to the voice of this insect. Homer, 
in his Illiad, compared his good orators to the Cicadas, 
'which, in the woods, sitting on a tree, sent forth a 
delicate voice. 1 

" However, the complimentary bards do not have it 
quite all their own way, for here and there a protest is 
heard against the common praise. Virgil, in his 
Georgics, speaks of the Harvest-flies as insects of a dis- 
agreeable and stridulous tone, and accuses them of 
bursting the very shrubs with their noise. Whether 
this is a case of national jealousy, or evidence that the 
musical ear of Italy was as delicate then as now, I will 
not undertake to decide. 1 ' 

"It seems impossible, 1 ' the Mistress said, " that so 
cultivated a people as the ancient Greeks could have 
been so destitute of musical taste as to attribute such 
virtues to the discordant squeaking of a male Cicada. 
It is really hard to believe !" 

" Perhaps," the Doctor suggested, "you may prefer 
to explain the fact by a not uncommon social phenom- 
enon nowadays. Have you not observed that it only 
needs that a few people of approved position and taste 
should declare a thing 'divine,' in order to bring the 
mass of so-called ' society ' on their knees before it ? 
Pray, how could the Greeks oppose the dictum of their 
literary guild and authorities of culture, combined 
with the tradition of their ancients ? It would have 
been high presumption to trust their own ears in the 
face of such testimonies. But here is another protest 
which, perhaps, will not command the ladies' sympa- 



SEVENTEEN YEARS UNDER GROUND. 375 

thy quite so readily. It is an old witicism, attributed 
to the incorrigible Rhodiau sensualist, Xenarchus, and 
gives a reason for the supposed happiness of the har- 
vest-flies very different from that of Anacreon : 

' Happy the Cicadas' lives, 
Since they all have — voiceless wives V. " 

u O the wretch !" exclaimed the Mistress, laughing. 

4t To be sure, he was a wretch," I remarked, "and a 
false philosopher at that, for my observation has been 
that men are not only more curious, but more talkative 
than women. But I am obliged to the old cynic, never- 
theless, for his couplet shows that even at that early 
date the fact had been observed that the males alone are 
gifted with sound-producing organs." 

"I must not weary you with my quotations," the 
Doctor resumed ; " but I may tell you that the rage for 
decorating the person with images of insects, which 
prevails so widely just now, is only a revival of an old 
custom. The Athenian elders, even before the time of 
Thucidides, were accustomed to fasten golden images 
of the Cicadas in their hair, and the same were worn as 
ornaments on dresses. These were emblems of their 
claims to being Autocthones (AvroxBoves), that is, 
as we would say, Aborigines, original inhabitants of 
the soil. The significance of the emblem la}^ in the 
belief that Cicadas sprung from the soil, an origin 
which the Greeks might well be excused for attributing 
to them- in view of their peculiar habits. 

"I add that the Greeks, notwithstanding their ven- 



376 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

eration for these insects, made them an article of food, 
and accounted them delicious. JElian takes occasion to 
reprimand the men of his age for the fact that an ani- 
mal sacred to the Muses should be strung, sold, and 
greedily devoured ! It does seem to have been very 
improper and inconsistent behavior ; but the ancient 
Greeks are not peculiar among their fellows in devour- 
ing the objects of their worship, or, perhaps I should 
say, worshipping the objects that they devour." 



CHAPTER XIX. 

HOUSEKEEPING IN A BASKET. 

These house chronicles do not record all the conver- 
sations held around the great sitting-room fireplace 
during the year of which I write. Since undertaking 
to edit the notes accumulated at that time, I have been 
compelled to omit many subjects. I am not sure that 
the most interesting themes have always been chosen 
for these published papers. At least, it is safe to say 
that many that greatly interested our circle will not 
here appear ; for it only needed that we should unite 
our kuowledge and experience upon the life-history 
of the humblest of the Insect Tenants of our Old 
Farm, in order to insure a fund of agreeable informa- 
tion. Certainly, some insects had greater attraction 
for us than others, but there was enough and to spare 
in the natural history of an} r one of them. Time and 
again our little circle learned the truth, well known to 
naturalists, that the objects which yield the richest 
store under investigation are those which lie nearest at 
hand. From such objects we selected our subjects, 
leaving many untouched ; and from such selections 
again these published notes have been gleaned. I make 
bold to speak of this lest some one should think that 
these scant studies cover the field of entomology. 

94. 377 " 



378 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

Nay ; it is true here, as Jerrold said of the soil of Aus- 
tralia, one has but to " tickle the face of nature with a 
hoe and she laughs with a golden harvest." We but 
touched the surface of the Insect World in our Conver- 
sations, and I am scarcely doing so much in these 
notes. 

Meanwhile, the season steadily advanced. Thanks- 
giving Day came in with a whirl of tempest and snow 
that marked the advent of winter. Again the days 
brightened, and the early weeks of December recalled 
the mingled softness and severity of November. Christ- 
mas came with its good cheer, and a sunny holiday 
week closed with a real winter storm, and a snow that 
whitened all the woods and fields. Shut in, as we 
were, by the heavy weather and our solitary site from 
the society of neighbors and friends, and thrown back 
upon our own resources for enjoyment, we came to 
look for the weekly or semi-weekly entomological meet- 
ings with increased pleasure. Surely there is a valuable 
hint here for many country homes. It is true that a 
specialist cannot often be found to lead the winter- 
night conversation; but the printed page of book or 
magazine may well take his place. There are few 
home circles where individual studies and observations 
could not add running comments of real value. 

It was rare for us to pass the appointed time without 
a Conversation ; and the preparation therefor— collect- 
ing and arranging specimens, making outline sketches 
and brief notes, gave to my mind an agreeable occupa- 
tion that was quite needful alike to ward on discontent 



HOUSEKEEPING IN A BASKET. 379 

and thoughts of business affairs. Change and rest 
gradually wrought their helpful mission, and healthful 
days and sleepful nights slowly returned to me. 

To he sure, as the winter advanced, I lost the ad- 
vantage of field studies, with the open air exercise 
which they involved. There was, indeed, opportunity 
for looking into the winter habits of my insect friends 
which was improved with good results ; but for the 
most part we fell back upon the information gathered 
during summer and autumn. This was little detriment 
to our studies, as I had anticipated the difficulty, and 
assisted by my willing and active aids, had made large 
collections which could always be supplemented from 
the city museum. 

" What is the fun ?" asked the Mistress as I came in 
on one of these collecting days, bringing a handful of 
basket-worms. 

"Only another example of Dan's 'curus' ways," I 
replied. " He has proved a real god-send to me, for I 
think it would be well nigh impossible in a month's 
journey to strike so rich a vein of superstition as lies 
under his black skin. He has given me a new insight 
of the strange relations between my entomological pete 
and my fellows, and shown me how deeply and strangely 
the world of men has been impressed by the insect 
world." 

"Well, and what new discovery have you made this 
morning ?" 

" Something about these basket-worms. You know 
the large arbor vita? tree in the back yard has been 



380 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

badly infested by them ; the whole top was stripped of 
leaves, and the cone-shaped baskets were pendant from 
every branch. I fear the tree may be beyond help, but 
I resolved to try to save it by plucking and burning all 
the baskets. I ordered Dan to get the orchard step- 
ladder and help me in this work. I was surprised to 
see him hold back and seek to avoid the duty, but he 
finally obeyed and gathered the branches into a heap 
as I clipped them from the tree. However, he kept 
muttering over his task, and shook his head continually 
in a most solemn way. I set this down as one of his 
oddities and took no notice of it. The tree was stripped 
at last and a great pile of basket-worms gathered. 

"Now, Dan," I said, "get a few kindlers and we 
shall make a little bonfire." 

" Yo aint gwine to burn up dese tings, Mars May- 
fid', be yo ?" 

" Certainly ; why not ? Come, hurry up !" 

The old fellow took off his hat and stood twisting the 
brim around and around through his fingers. He 
looked as solemn as the grave. I began to show some 
vexation, I suppose, for he said : 

" Mars MayfieP, I done sarve yo tro and faiful, alluz ; 
an' alluz meanter do my duty 's well 's I know how. 
But dar 's some .tings wat a man haint no right ter do, 
nur ax ano'der man ter do for 'im. An' dat's jes one 
uv 'em. Ef yo'll please 'scuse me from doin' dat, I'll 
be powerful bleeged ter yo. I ax yo pardon, but clar 
to goodness, Mars'r I can't do dat ting." 

X saw that he was in serious earnest, and relieved 



HOUSEKEEPING IN A BASKET. 381 

his anxiety at once. " All right, Dan, I won't ask 
yon to do this work if yon object so seriously. But 
what's your reason for declining ?" 

" I done got conscience agin it, sir." 

" Conscience ! against killing these caterpillars that 
are destroying your trees ? You surely can't be in 
earnest, Dan ?" 

" Can't help it, sab. I'se dead in yarnest, I shore 
yo. It's jes dis a-way. Dem's wat;- we uns call fire- 
wood billies [billets] ; an' wat de ole folks saze is, dat 
(ley is nuffin mo' nur less dan human critters wats a- 
been punished for stealin' wood wen dey wuz alive an' 
in de body. Dey's jes been turned inter dese billies 
deyselves, an' so dey go aroun' totin dey sacks ob 
leetle sticks, and hangin' dar in de win', col' an' chill 
enough de whole winter froo. 'Tempsychoses — dat's 
wat Latimore's ole Aunt Sue used to call it. Now, 
Mars Mayfiel', I 'low you doan bleeve dat ; but, yo' 
see, I does; an' I couldn't git consent nohow to 'gage 
in a-burnm' ob dem pore tempsychoses. Dey's pun- 
ished enough, I reckon, already ; an' dough dey is 
turned inter billies ob fire-wood, I doan want ter be de 
man wat put's de fire to 'em. We's all powerful weak, 
sah, an' like to go astray, an' ef ebrybuddy wat steals 
now-a-days done got turned inter billies, dar'd be a 
heap mo' tempsychoses hangin' r roun' de trees, sah, 
dan dey is now. I doan' mean no disrespect, indeed I 
doan', but dat's w'y I can't 'bey dat order." 

u Well, I have had a similar experience w r ith Dan," 
said the Mistress, laughing, when I had finished my 



382 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

story. " A few days ago I asked him to carry a bundle 
up-stairs and put it into the blue-room. He refused 
politely enough but decidedly. I wondered at his 
rebellion and asked him for a reason. 1 ' 

"I nebber goes inter dat room, Mis' Mayfiel'," he 
said, "an' I nebber did, and, please de Lor', I nebber 
will. 1 ' 

"•Why not, Dan ; what's the matter with the 
room ?" 

"Matter enough, ma'am. How d'yo spose dem 
tracks got up on dat ceiling ? No dorg nur mann ebber 
walked ober de roof in dat away, head down'rd. ]NTo, 
no !" and he shook his head solemnly, " dar's been bad 
business dar. Yo' may depen' ! No mortals nebber 
made dem tracks ! An' ole Dan doan wan ter git his 
head in-under 'em." 

The room which had thus excited Dan's superstition 
is a back chamber on the south side of the second floor. 
The ceiling has been preserved precisely in the state in 
which it was built a century ago. It is made of plain 
unpainted boards, which are really the floor of the 
loft above. The rough rafters upon which they are 
nailed show in all their virgin plainness. A small 
square boxed hole serves as a ventilator through the 
roof. The ancient side-door retains the old-fashioned 
u bobin " latch, and a very old chest of drawers adds to 
the quaintness of the chamber. 

As one enters the room and glances upward, he is 
surprised to find a number of dog-tracks upon the 
ceiling ! There they are, their strong leather-brown 



HOUSEKEEPING IN A BASKET. 383 

color showing distinctly even against the age-browned 
boards. How did the dog-tracks get there ? In one 
corner of the roof are the indistinct outlines of a pair 
of naked human feet. Some one seems to have scrubbed 
there until they are recognized with difficulty, but 
human footprints they certainly are. 

The origin of these " tracks " has been for many 
years a fruitful subject for gossip among humbler 
counhy-side folk. But there is not much mysterj' 
about it according to the Townes family tradition. 
The board-yard at which the lumber was bought was 
also the tan-yard, and feet that had passed through 
the liquid tan had walked across and left their prints 
upon the boards which good Friend Townes had 
loaded up for his new house. Xo one thought worth 
while to plane them off, and so they were nailed down, 
tracks and all ! Many a tidy housekeeper had tried 
her hands and temper at the task of scrubbing off the 
marks ; but at last they came to be valued for their 
oddity. Nevertheless, there was this disadvantage, 
that in some minds the mysterious dog-tracks awakened 
nearly as much consternation as did the " handwriting 
on the wall " at Belshazzar's feast. 

Poor Dan of course fell a victim to the mystery. 
Who would accept so simple an explanation as that 
which we have given ? Too plain entirely, that ! Xo, 
no ; the feet that left those prints upon the ceiling 
were not of mortal mold ! The room " wasn't zactly 
' hanted, ' " Dan agreed, but he steadily refused to 
compromise himself with the " sperits " by entering 



384 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

it. Queer old Dan ! His character had a most har- 
monious setting in such a quaint old house. 

In our conversation upon the " Tailor Insects," the 
basket or bag-worms had the first place. I had collected 
a number of interesting specimens from the old farm 
and from a grove at Shadybank, the home of one of 
my neighbors. These had been gathered from several 
species of trees widely differing in character — the 
arbor vitre, white pine, larch, cypress, Scotch syca- 
more, American sycamore or buttonwood, English 
walnut, silver maple and sugar maple. 

The caterpillar therefore has a wide range in the 
selection of its food-plant, and thus has immense ad- 
vantages in the struggle for life and the chance to 
increase man's struggle. 

"The basket-worm is the caterpillar of a species of 
mpth sometimes known as the house-builder moth. 
By others the insects are also called Canephorse, or, 
basket-carriers, and the Germans call them Sack-ti 'tiger, 
or sack-bearers. These specimens all belong to one 
species (Thridopteryx Ps/}cl)!<lx~), which is widely dis- 
tributed throughout our vicinity. 

" Let us take up our history of the insect at the point 
when it appears as a larva. So for as we know, the 
eggs are laid, by the female within the case, and are 
there hatched out. The first act of the young worm is 
to spin around itself a silken case, open at both ends. 
This becomes at last an extremely tough substance, 
narrow at the bottom, widened out at the middle, and 
again narrowed at the top into a tube, widest at the 




J*KG. 120.— BASKET ON PINE. 



386 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

rim. Look at some of these cases ; most of them are 
of this year's brood, and contain a crysalis, from which 
an Ephemeraform Moth will emerge next summer. 
Here is one that fed upon the pine ; you observe how 
the long needle-like leaves of the tree have been at- 
tached to the outside of the case, and hang down far be- 
low the end (Fig. 120.) Here is another that lias been 
made upon arbor vitfe, and the leaves and oblong 




FIG. 121. — BASKET WORM DRAWN UP TO FEED OR SPIN. 

cones of the' plant completely conceal the silken en- 
velope. This tree or shrub is a favorite food-plant of 
this species, at least I have frequently found the worm 
upon it. Here is a third specimen, a small one, which 
is completely covered with the feather-like bracts of 




FIG. 122. — A PROSPECTING BAGWORM. 



388 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

the Scotch sycamore. A few stamens and bits of twigs 
assist the ornamentation. The case hangs to the mid- 
rib, and the opening cut in the leaf, all around the 
case-stalk, shows where the insect has been feeding." 

" What is the use of these patches and bars ?" asked 
Abby. "Are they simply for ornament like the beads 
and buttons that ladies sew upon their dresses ?" 

" I suspect that the caterpillar has not yet reached 
the stage of development at which it is either troubled 
or gladdened by the aesthetics of dressmaking. The 
habit is probably protective. And yet one would think 
that the extremely tough case which envelops it would 
be quite sufficient armor against all assault of foes and 
stress of weather. Nevertheless, this leafy coat of 
mail, which, as you see, sometimes wholly covers the 
sac, must greatly add to the protective value of the cov- 
ering. The caterpillar has a soft, hairless body, and is 
thus more exposed to attack than many others ; but 
certainly Nature appears to have favored this creature 
far above its fellows." 

"How does the worm manage to trim her coat in 
this wise ?" asked the Mistress. 

" I have some drawings here that will enable me to 
answer you. But it will be necessary first to explain 
the manner of eating. The larva has perfect control of 
its own movements, notwithstanding the fact that it 
carries its house upon its back. It can thrust its body 
out of the sac - mouth until nearly the whole of it is 
exposed, and twist and bend itself in all directions. 
(Fig. 122.) 



HOUSEKEEPING IN A BASKET. 



389 



"I have seen specimens that had dropped from the 
trees hanging by a thread and squirming, bending and 
snapping their bodies in the 
oddest ways, while the case 
spun around like an old- 
fashioned distaff, which in- 
deed it resembles. ISTow, 
when the caterpillar wants 
to feed it stretches out its 
head and neck, and moves 
them about until a satis- 
factory point has been se- 
cured. This it clasps with 
its pro-legs, which are hard, 
conical organs provided 
with sharp claws, and pulls 
up its body as you see at 
this figure (Fig. 121), and 
begins to spin. The spin- 
ning organs are near the 
mouth, and after several 
motions of the head, as 
though smearing the liquid 
viscid silk, the head is 
drawn back, thus drawing 
out a short thread. A simi- 
lar movement is then made 
against one side of the 

mouth of the sac. This process is repeated several 
times until a stout stay-line is spun by which the 




FIG. 123. — FEEDING ON 
PINE. 



390 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

larva hangs securely. Now the creature is ready to 
feed. The behavior varies in this act, a good deal. 
For example, here is a sketch (Fig. 123) of a worm 
feeding upon the white pine. You may see the stay- 
line by which it hangs to one leaf, while it reaches 
to an adjoining needle, bites it off, and " sits " erect in 
its house comfortably chewing oft' the end which is con- 
tinually shored upward by the two pairs of pro-legs 
that appear above the sac. This specimen made a 
very comical figure, and reminded me, when I drew 
it, of the attitude of a squirrel feeding on a nut. 

"But more frequently the worm feeds without sepa- 
rating the leaf from the point of suspension. In the 
sketch, for example (Fig. 121), which I use to illustrate 
the attitude in spinning, we have the same position 
precisely as that taken when eating. The caterpillar 
has made itself fast to the under part of the leaf, as you 
see, and is gnawing at the edge, moving its head around 
as it eats. When the sketch was taken the leaf was 
nearly consumed." 

" Can thee tell how the caterpillar is held within its 
house V asked Aunt Hannah. ct Does it lash its body 
to the inside ?" 

" I never saw a fastening of any sort in the cocoons 
which I have opened. The larva can turn itself around 
easily in its case, and go out at either end, although 
the head is generally upward. It clings to the inside 
of the case with the hooks upon its hinder feet, and so 
tenaciously that I have never been able to force one out, 
always being checked by the fear of tearing the creature 



HOUSEKEEPING JGV A BASKET. 391 

in two. I come now to the mode of attaching the leaf- 
cuttings to the case. So far as I have observed, this 
is always done at or near the mouth of the sac ; at 
least I never saw a worm stretch its mouth backward 
and downward to sew a patch to the lower part of 
its case." 

" But how do they get there ? See here !" exclaimed 
Abby, "*the leaves and chips are scattered all along 
the basket, from top to bottom. The caterpillar must 
have reached down to these points in order to fasten 
them there." 

4bby's opinion evidently had a unanimous verdict of 
approval from the members of the circle who were care- 
fully examining the baskets. I was therefore bound to 
defend my assertion. 

" You forget, I think, that the basket-worm larva 
is a growing creature, unlike the moth itself, which 
emerges a perfect insect of full growth. It begins as a 
small worm, eats small quantities, and, as you may ob- 
serve, down here toward the foot of the case sews on 
very small tags. But after it has fastened on these 
pieces — to the mouth, remember — it grows itself, and 
so also does the case, which it continually stretches and 
enlarges. You can easily see. therefore, that the 
mouth of the case is continually changing, moving up- 
ward as the worm feeds, just as does the opening of 
Aunt Hannah's stocking as she knits. The pieces 
sewed upon the cap of the case thus appear, in an adult 
caterpillar, precisely as they are here, scattered along 
the outside from top to bottom. Is that clear to you ?" 



392 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

"I quite understand it now," said Abby ; "but I 
am still at a loss to know how the pieces are put on. 
Can you explain that ?" 

"In part at least; for I have seen the process in 
worms feeding upon. arbor vitse. Take one example 
which may illustrate others. In this drawing (Fig. 
124) the worm has cleared a goodly space around it 
and has eaten along a twig toward the outer point. 
Now, suppose that just where its head is shown, 
it cuts quite through the twig, whether by accident 
or design I cannot say. Of course the outer part 
drops down. But, while eating, the worm frequently, 
quite constantly, indeed, spreads its viscid silk along 
the leaf and so keeps it attached on both sides to 
the upper edge of the sac, or to its own mouth- 
parts. 

" Thus, the tip of the twig or leaf, when it is severed 
from the stem, instead of falling to the ground, simply 
drops alongside of the case to which it is held by the 
slight filament that attaches it to the sac, or as in 
many instances, to the caterpillar's spinnerets. In 
either case, the twig, leaf, stem, or cutting remains, 
and after being drawm up, adjusted and tightened by 
the worm, sticks tightly. As the creature is con- 
tinually moving its spinning tubes around the top of 
the sac, these fastenings are continually being 
strengthened. Thus one piece after another is added, 
and so the basket grows. No doubt the animal varies 
her mode of procedure, but so far as I have observed, 
the process is as I have given it. 



HOUSEKEEPING IN A BASKET. 393 

" Can the basket-worms walk with such big packs 
upon their backs ?" asked Harry. 

"That they can, and make pretty good time, too. I 
once timed one that was climbing up a tent pole, and 




FIG. 124,-— CUTTING A TWIG OF ARBOR VITJE. 



found that it traveled at the rate of three inches a 

minute, and could have made much better time, I am 

sure. It walked ten or twelve feet before it stopped, 

or rather, before I lost sight of it in a branch that 

overhung and touched the tent. Two others were 

tried in the same way with about the same results. 

They are odd looking objects as they go along, with 

their baskets hanging down, held out at right angles, 

25 



394 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

or even, when small, turned quite erect. Here is a 
drawing of one climbing a leaf-stalk. (Fig. 125.) 

" But how do they manage to walk ? I can't under- 
stand that," said Harry. 

u The walking is done altogether with these three 
fore-legs. Let us suppose that the caterpillar has just 
made a step. Its head and the upper rings of the 
body are thrust beyond the case. It is holding by all 
its pro-legs. Xow it prepares to take a step ; it re- 
leases first the second pair of legs, and immediately 
after the first pair, at the same time pushing its head 
forward. The rings of the body extend like the joints 
of a telescope, and when the two first legs are ready to 
be set down, the fore part of the body is well advanced. 
Then the larva pulls upon the third pair of legs which 
hold tightly to the surface, and by wrinkling up, or 
more properly contracting the rings of the middle and 
hind part of the body, it hitches them forward, and, 
of course, the whole case comes along. That completes 
one step, and all others are made in the same way." 

"Well, well," exclaimed the Mistress, when I had 
sent my sketch around the circle, " of all curious crea- 
tures which you have described to us, this basket- 
worm appears to me to bear away the palm for oddity . 
I begin to understand why one can be so patient and 
self-denying in nature studies. Eeally it must be a 
great pleasure to find out all these remarkable things." 

"To me," said Aunt Hannah, " there is something 
more remarkable than thy husband's patience, or even 
the habits of his insect friends." 



HOUSEKEEPING IN A BASKET. 395 




FIG. 125. — HOW THE BAG-WORMS WALK AND CLIMB. 

"Pray what is that ?" 

"It is the fact that these creatures have heen living 
their wonderful lives and working out their wise ways 
underneath my very eyes all my life time, and I never 
saw them!' Since thee has spoken of it, Friend May- 
field, I remember having observed these objects hang* 
ing to the limbs of some of our own trees when stripped 
of leaves in autumn. But it never occurred to me to 
examine them. Indeed, if I thought about them at 
all, it was only to suppose them some part of the tree — 



396 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

a cone, or something of that sort. I am ashamed, hu- 
miliated and amazed at my stupidity !" 

"An honest confession, Aunt Hannah," I said, 
"and if all who are in like condemnation would speak 
with like candor, there would be a great ' army of con- 
fessors,' I assure you. But so it always has been. The 
' seeing eye ' is one of the rarest gifts in this world of 
ours." 

" Shall I tell you what I have been thinking about ?" 
asked Abby. 

" By all means ; something pleasant, I am sure, by 
your smiling face." 

"I was thinking of the Jubilee Singers." 

"The Jubilee Singers !" the Mistress exclaimed. 
" Of all things mundane, why of them ? Your power 
of association will certainly turn out to be a greater 
marvel than we have yet heard of." 

" I am quite in earnest,' Abby responded. " There 

is one plantation song which those colored students 

rendered that I never understood until to-day. It 

flashed into my mind while Mr. Mayfield was telling us 

how the basket-worm walks. Do you remember the 

lines ? — 

' Tm inchin' along like a pore inch-worm, 
Iqchin' along to Jesus !' 

"Now, I used to think that over-rude, if not irrev- 
erent, even for a plantation hymn ; for it never occurred 
to me before that the figure is a true and highly ex- 
pressive one, drawn from the daily observation and 
adapted to the simple characters of those who sang 



HOUSEKEEPING IN A BASKET. 397 

it, albeit somewhat vulgar to our ears. What could be 
more appropriate than the phrase ' inchin' along ' to 
describe the motion of your basket-worm and other 
geometrids ? And what more natural and apposite 
metaphor could be found for the halting, hitching, 
timorous progress of some souls in the spiritual life ? 
If we grant that all objects in nature are of equal 
worth and standing, the ' inch-worm ' is entitled to 
a place among poetic emblems, and the rude plan- 
tation hymnists' figure is a literary gem."" 

" I find myself in the affirmative," I remarked, u on 
all these points ; at least I am not prepared to dissent 
from either the Mistress, Aunt Hannah, or Miss Abby. 
I suppose, therefore, that I may resume the story of the 
basket-worm, for I have not yet quite finished. Some 
one asked me if the caterpillar has a covering to the 
mouth of its case. No, but it has several ways of clos- 
ing it. If it is walking along or feeding, at any alarm 
it instantly draws itself up and forces the open mouth 
closely against the stem or leaf, which then serves as a 
door." 

"That's just the way a snail does with its shell," 
suggested Harry. " I 've often seen 'em !" 

"Precisely. The soft body of the snail is thus 
pushed within its hard shell while the rock to which it 
clings closes the opening. If the caterpillar happens to 
be hanging by the stay-thread or loosens its hold upon 
the leaf, it instantly grasps the upper rim of the sac 
just within the mouth and pulls the edges together 
over its head, as Harry might close a grain-bag with 



398 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

his hands after backing inside of it. When the worm 
rests from feeding it proceeds in this way, and sews the 
mouth up securely. It will often hang thus during much 
of the day time, and in the cool of the evening come out 
to eat. I have seen the branches of an arbor vitse tree 
fairly astir with the number of basket-worms that come 
out at nightfall to feed. Of course the exit is easy, for 
they have only to cut the inner fastenings with their 
sharp teeth. 

" When the larva is about to become a pupa it shuts 
up the case in the last way described, casts oif its last 
larval skin, and, without making any other cocoon, 
awaits its transformation. 

' ' Do both sexes have the same bag or basket - 
making habit ?" asked Hugh. 

" Yes ; but here comes in another remarkable fact in 
the life-history of our insect. Like the tussock moth, 
of which you have already learned, the female of the 
basket-worm is wingless. Indeed, if you examine the 
specimen you will notice that she has the merest 
apologies for legs and antennae — in fact, closely 
resembles her larva. A more helpless creature it 
would be hard to find ; and so, like the discreet matron 
of Scripture, she is a "keeper at home," though, for 
that matter, there is nothing else for her to do. She 
never leaves her case, not even to receive her wooers, 
who must seek her inside her own house." 

u How, then, pray, does she ever find a mate?" 
asked the Mistress. 

" Ah 1 she is a thorough model of maidenly mod-' 



HOUSEKEEPING IN A BASKET. 399 

esty in that respect, for the mate always finds her. 
Nature has given him wings, decorated him with 
beautiful feathered antennae, and made him in every 
respect a striking contrast to his fat, downy, grub-like 
partner. 

"As soon as he has transformed, he abandons his 
secure castle and hies away to seek his true-love, which 
is now the one aim of his life. Undoubtedly, the re- 
tired habits of his ladye faire present serious obstacles ; 
but then, when was ever true lover daunted by difficul- 
ties ? Sooner or later he finds his mate, who. for her 
part, spends the short remainder of her life in laying a 
number of eggs within her basket home, wherein, by- 
and-by, a lively brood of young caterpillars are reared. 
They have regular, restless Anglo-Saxon dispositions, 
and, as we have seen already, are not content until 
they colonize from the old homestead and set up house- 
keeping for themselves. It was at this point that we 
began the history of the basket-worm, and here we 
must now leave it." 



CHAFTEIl XX. 

SARTOR INSECTORUM. 

Our next meeting fell upon a genuine winter evening. 
Snow had fallen during the day, and although the moon 
rose full, yet ever and anon sharp squalls drove clouds 
along the sky, intercepting her rays, and dusting the 
fast whitening earth with feathery falls of snow flakes. 
Then the clouds scudded away, and the moonlight laid 
its glory upon the landscape. Looking out from our 
sitting-room window, we saw Luna's broad, jocund 
face hanging over a neighboring woods, and peering 
straight along the line of our wide avenue. In the 
open spaces the light sparkled among the snow crystals, 
which, as they drifted before puffs of wind, seemed like 
a phosphorescence of the frost upon a sea of snow. 
The lane and fields lay in a whiteness that was intense 
under the full moonbeams ; shadows of the trees 
stretching down toward us were deeper in the contrast, 
and as the branches swayed before the gust, they 
shifted continually, so that their weird outlines looked 
like a dance of giants sporting on a crystal floor, and 
reaching forth their gaunt arms to catch the columns 
of drift that whirled by like veiled spirits of the storm. 

Inside the old farm house a cheerful home scene was 

presented. Dan thoroughly understands the well nigh 
400 



SARTOR INSECTORUM. 401 

lost art of " building " an open hea-rth fire. Flush 
against the chimney wall a great back-log lay, its heart 
already well uncovered by the gnawing flames, whose 
huge triangular bite was all aglow with rosy embers. 
Hickory sticks of various sizes, laid on in delicate grada- 
tion, were piled atop of the andirons in front of the 
back-log. How the big fire did leap and laugh, and 
spit and sparkle, and hiss and crackle as the flames ate 
their way into the wood! The bed of coals beneath 
continually grew as splints and chunks fell off from the 
fore-logs, curled up into glowing color upon the hot 
bed, and then melted away into the common mass of 
embers. In the hearth-corner the tea kettle kept up a 
genial sizz-z in answer to the kitten's purr, and the old- 
fashioned brazen standards of the irons seemed from 
their polished bulbs and rings to reflect the comfort, 
brightness and genial warmth of the whole precincts 
of the hearth. 

Winter snows are the true soil for the generous cul- 
ture of home. Home life, home love, home pleasures 
are indigenous growths in lands where the Frost King- 
claims some season for his own. How one hugs his 
hearth-stone and feels his heart leap up with its fire- 
flames in gladness over his well-housed loved ones, 
when he hears the storm rattling at his window ! 

The table was wheeled in front of our fire, the lamps 
were lit and set upon it, together with boxes of speci- 
mens, books and the invariable folio of manilla paper 
for illustrations. Why is it that on such occasions the: 
ladies are sure to find some pleasant and useful occupa- 



402 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

tion for their fingers ? Certes, the}' present a graceful 
and pleasing feature in the home circle, with prettj r 
work-baskets at their sides filled with its paraphernalia 
of thimbles, scissors, emery-bag, needles, pins, spools 
and divers odds and ends, with rolls of broidery bright 
with many hues on their laps, or tidy pieces of plain 
sewing, or meshed bands and bundles of knitting work, 
while trim fingers move briskly, and the tools of their 
delicate handicraft tinkle amid the music of their 
tongues. To say nothing of economies, these womanly 
ways are a vast contribution to the aesthetics of our 
houses, and show in notable contrast with the ungrace- 
ful, even ungainly over-consciousness of hands and the 
mystery of what to do with them, which so often char- 
acterize the male portion of a family circle. 

These reflections were started by a glance around our 
sitting-room on that winter night. All the ladies had 
some pleasant work for their fingers ; even the click of 
Sarah's knitting-needles sounded out of the kitchen 
shadows. But the masculines betrayed by their awk- 
ward attitudes and restless movements the need of 
some occupation for their hands to give their bearing- 
poise and gracefulness. 

Who will discover for man's fingers a suitable and 
congenial home employment besides rotating a news- 
paper and manipulating a cigar ? For such a genius a 
monument more enduring than brass awaits. 

" Thee spoke of insects sewing," said Aunt Hannah, 
as we began our Conversation on Insect Tailors amid 
the above congenial surroundings. U I have looked 



SARTOR INSECTORUM. 



403 



over these specimens, and 
have seen nothing that 
can fairly be called by 
that name — at least ac- 
cording to our ideas of 
such work. I think I 
should speak of the bas- 
ket-worm's labor as past- 
ing rather than sewing. 
Xor do I see anything 
different in these nests of 
spiders, leaf-rolling cater- 
pillars and cutting bees." 

"That is true," I re- 
plied, "if we concede 
that sewing requires the 
use of a needle or needle- 
like implement. Our in- 
sects do not sew their 
nests together in the sense 
or fashion of the tailor- 
bird or fan-tailed warbler, 
for example. But sup- 
pose we define sewing as 
the art of making an 
artificial covering for the 
body, then the basket- 
worm is a true insect 
tailor, is it not ? 

" Or, again, suppose we 



• & 



zi-S. 



404 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

define sewing as the art of joining together separ- 
ate pieces of pliable material by means of threads. 
Then our basket-worm as well as these ,leaf-rollers 
and spiders are true tailors, for certainly they do 
unite leaves into nests by silken threads stretched from 
one to the other. (Fig. 126). Here in this nest of the 
Spectacle spider, made in a hickory leaf, you can dis- 
tinctly see the threads crossing the seam from side to 
side, from one end to the other. Here are some nests 
of the beautiful Shamrock spider, one spun among the 
leaves of some vine unknown to me (Fig. 127), the 
others made out of the leaves of a fern. They are beau- 
tiful objects even now as dried specimens, and were far 
more shapely when seen in nature. Xow, in these 
cases and all similar ones, the ends of threads have been 
made to adhere to instead of passing through pieces 
after having been drawn taut, but the effect is pre- 
cisely the same in both modes — the threads pull the 
pieces or parts together, and hold them so. That, I 
think, may fairly be classified as tailoring, may it 
not ?" 

"Yes, but here is a difference," said Abby, joining 
in the discussion. " The art of the tailor or seamstress 
has for its object the clothing of the body. Now, if we 
admit that the basket- worm's case is really such a cov- 
ering, a true coat or frock, if you please, you cannot 
say the same of these spider structures. According to 
your own showing they are houses, not garments." 

"Well put, Miss Abby, and you shall be fairly an- 
swered. During the bright autumnal da} T s I pitched 



SARTOR INSECTORUM. 405 




FIG. 127.— LEAP-NEST OF THE SHAMKOCK SPIDER. 
(EPEIRA TRIFOLIUM.) 

my tent upon the lawn and used it continually for an 
office and outdoor library, so that by the physician's 
advice I might be as much as possible in the open air. 
My tent is sewed—a, house or shelter of various pieces 
of canvas wrought together by the tailor's craft. But 
what will you do with it if you refuse to allow the 
spider's nest a place among sewed structures because it 
is a tent and not a garment ?" (Fig. 127.) 



406 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

" Really, Abby," smilingly remarked Aunt Hannah, 
" I think that we must admit that Friend Mayfield is 
right, and receive his insect friends into our worthy 
guild of spinsters, tailors and seamstresses. For one, I 
am better content with their association than I would 
have been before I was favored with a place at these 
Conversations." 

" Thank you, Aunt Hannah. And now I shall pre- 
sent for the honor of membership a new candidate, the 
Leaf-cutter Bee (Megachile centuncularis).* You have 
better reason for denying her claims to place among the 
tailor insects than the others ; but on the strength of 
the importance which I know the cutting department 
to have in all sewing operations, I venture to include 
her within this group." 

" Oh, we will all vote to admit her !" exclaimed the 
Mistress. " Bees are such genteel insects, and so in- 
teresting withal, that airy member of such a ' highly 
respectable family ' — to quote a favorite Philadelphia 
phrase — shall not go a-begging for a seat among the 
seamstresses. Let us have the leaf-cutter bee." 

" Well, then, here she is — a thick-bodied insect with 
a large square head armed with stout jaws. She is not 
provided with a pollen-basket like the honey and hum- 
ble-bees, but Nature has placed a thick mass of dense 
hair on the under side of the apex of the abdomen or 
tail, which she uses for the same purpose. 

" We have two or three species common to the East- 
ern United States [Megachile menduca, M. integer, M. 
* Or, M. Mendica, closely allied to M. Centuncularis, 



SARTOR IXSECTORUM. 407 

brevis], having nearly the same habits, which indeed 
differ little from those of their European congeners. 
The insect begins her nest by boring a hole about the 
diameter of her own body in the soft pith of an elder 
stem, or the soft wood of some old tree. Sometimes 
she digs a cylindrical hole in a beaten pathway. Some- 
times she economizes her labor by choosing the hollow 
of a tree, the shelter of a cornice, or the cavities of an 
old wall for her home-site. This done, she seeks her 
favorite plant, which is commonly a rose-bush, and 
begins to harvest leaves. 

"She makes the cut in almost the same way as the 
cutting ant, as I have heretofore described it. She 
flits from leaf to leaf, not that there appears to be any 
ground for a selection, but somewhat on the principle 
(whatever it is) that moves certain ladies in their 
shopping expeditions. At last she is satisfied, settles 
upon the leaf, clinging by her feet to its edges. Then 
she draws her scissors which she carries not at her 
belt, but on the end of her face. . In other words, she 
opens her mandibles, which are well ordered tools for 
the purpose, and makes a slit into the edge of the leaf. 
Thence she moves rapidly around the major part of a 
circle, using her jaws as though one point of a pair of 
compasses and her feet as the others. The jaws work 
precisely like a pair of scissors, and with each forward 
slit the legs are hitched farther along, until the op- 
posite edge of the leaf is reached. Now she holds the 
cutting in her jaws, balances it while she poises her 
body upon fluttering wings, adjusts the severed piece 



408 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM, 

between her hind legs and flies away to her hole. Here 
is a figure representing leaf-cutter bees engaged upon 
a rose-bush, and beneath them are samples of the 
cylindrical nests which they construct." (Fig. 128.) 

" How long does it take a bee to cut out one of these 
pieces'?" asked Penn Townes. 

"One individual whose movements were timed, cut, 
carried ten yards to her nest, fixed the leaf in its place, 
and returned to the rose-bush on which she was work- 
ing, at intervals of from half a minute to a minute, 
and kept this up during an entire morning." 

" Pretty rapid work that !" 

" Yes, and you will appreciate it more highly when 
I shall have told you how she disposes of the leaves. 
If you turn to our figure (128) you will notice first 
that the leaves have been used to line the inner surface 
of the hole, and that they form a tube not quite three 
inches long, which consists of several 'joints,' as I may 
call them. If you will examine the joints you will 
perceive that each is made up of three or four pieces, 
and that the serrated edge, or natural selvage of the 
leaf, as the ladies might say, is invariably placed on 
the outside, while the cut margin is put innermost. 
Do you observe these points V 

" Yes, we all see." 

"Here is another fact, if I am not much mistaken," 
said Hugh. He had been examining the nest carefully, 
and, as it proved, with a true mechanical eye. "If 
you take purtickler notice, sir, you'll see that in 
formin' uv these jints the bee has been careful not 



SARTOR TNSECTORUM. 



409 




FIG. 128. — NEST OF LEAF-CUTTING BEE. (AFTEK BLANCIIARD.) 



to put a jinin over a jinin. She has laid the middle 

or solid part of every piece fernent a seam, an' I don't 

find nary seam that jines onter another seam. Bein's 

ther's so many pieces and seams, thet looks es though 

it mought a-been done a-purpose. Ain't it so ?" 

" You are quite right, and have proved yourself a 

26 



410 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

good observer, for this point has attracted the atten- 
tion of naturalists. It would really seem that the skill 
of an experienced joiner had been brought to bear upon 
this leafy tube." 

" How are the pieces held together ?" asked Abby. 
" I don't see any seam— I don't mean Hugh's sort, 
but the kind a seamstress makes. There's neither 
sewing nor pasting visible. Are the seams inside ?" 

"Now you have raised the point which I had in 
mind at the outset when I spoke of the doubtful claim 
of the leaf-cutter bee to a place among Taiior Insects. 
In point of fact there is no sewing here at all — not a 
thread used. The leaves are held in place by the 
natural spring of the leaf alone. Here are a glass 
lamp-chimney, a pair of scissors, and some bits of 
paper. "Who will try her hand at building an artificial 
bee's nest ? Miss Abby volunteers ! Very well, Penn 
may help you if he will, and see how you two will get 
along at the mimic work of nest-making." 

The Mistress cast a sly glance at the Schoolma'am, 
whose pink cheeks reddened as she shook her head 
threateningly at me. Aunt Hannah looked up quickly 
from her knitting, and shot a disapproving glance 
across the table. It would have been an angry glance, 
perhaps, if the good lady could have nursed wrath, for 
the growing interest that Penn Townes took in the 
Yankee maiden was a sore trial to her. Abby was, in- 
deed, all that her mother love could ask for her son, 
with one exception — religion. How could she bear to 
have her only child " turned out," deprived of his birth- 



SARTOR INSECTORUM. 411 

right privileges for " marrying out of meeting ?" She 
who already sat in the front seats ? whose husband 
now sat side by siae with the head of the meeting, an 
honored elder ? That long line of ancestral faithfulness 
and honor in the belief and fellowship of Friends, 
should it be broken off and cease forever by the rebel- 
lious act of her son ? Poor, dear woman ! it had come 
to be a great concern upon her mind, and a bitter cross 
to carry. 

It was but human that we should sympathize with 
her struggles within these hereditary bonds ; but for 
all that it was natural for us to wish success in our 
hearts to such a thoroughly well-anpointed match. 
Yet between Abby's high spirit and old ideas of pro- 
priety, and Penn's affection for his parents and con- 
scientious regard for his ancestral form of Christianity, 
the issue seemed more than doubtful. But whither am 
I wandering ? 

Let us hasten back to the leaf-cutter bee and her 
nest-making. 

" About ten or a dozen cuttings are required to form 
one cell. Each cutting is bent into a curved form, and 
pressed into the burrow in such a manner that the 
pieces fit successively into or overlap one another, and 
form a small thimble-shaped cell, which is narrowed at 
one end, and gradually widened at the other until the 
width equals half the length. In this the mother bee 
puts a single egg and some bee-bread, a substance com- 
posed of pollen mixed with honey. Xext she covers in 
the opening with two or three circular pieces of leaf, so 



412 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

as to keep a baby bee within its own proper bounds, 
and proceeds to make another cell." 

" How many cells does she make, sir ?" asked Hugh. 

"The nest from which our illustrations were taken 
contained thirty cells. These were not arranged con- 
tinuously, but in nine separate rows or series of un- 
equal length. The longest row contained six cells, and 
was two and three-quarter inches long. The whole 
leaf structure was equal to a length of fifteen inches, 
and contained about a thousand pieces. I have often 
wondered at the rare patience of some of our lady 
friends in building a patchwork quilt out of no end of 
bits of silk and other stuff. But here is an insect who 
may fairly rival them." 

" Here's your model nest," said Abby, who had by 
this time completed her task. " I should have found it 
a far easier work "• — laughing — " if I could have crept 
inside m}^ burrow, as the bee does, instead of limiting 
entrance to a finger or two. But I have been thinking 
that you have assigned these insects the wrong trade, 
after all." 

"How is that ? Where do you place them ?" 

"With the upholsterers. These leaves are tapestry. 
The bee hangs them upon her walls and ceiling, and 
lays them as- carpets upon her floors. Her handicraft 
is upholstery, and therein I vote to put her." 

"Very well, put the little artificer where you may 
she furnishes an interesting study. By-and-by her 
eggs become larva?, feed upon the bee-bread provided 
by the Forethought uttered through maternal care, 



SARTOR WSECTORUM. 



413 




FIG. 129. — ROLLED LEAF-NEST OF TORTRICID MOTH. 
(FROM NATURE.) 

spin a slight silken cocoon about the tapestried walls of 
their cradle-cells, go into the pupa state, and in about 
a month become mature bees, and cut their way out 
into the broad world to fill up their part of Nature's 
unending round." 



414 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

"Perhaps the most perfect examples of the tailor's 
art in the insect world are found among the Lepidop- 
tera. Butterflies, and especially moths, are famous for 
sewed habitations." 

"Moths!" exclaimed the Mistress. "You amaze 
me. I thought they flitted from flower to shrub, and 
build themselves no homes at all." 

" That is true of the imago or winged insect," I an- 
swered. " But you forget that the adult life of moth or 
butterfly is the shortest nart of its existence, In that 
estate it is really an uninteresting creature, for the most 
part, and challenges attention chiefly by its form and 
colors. It is in the caterpillar state, the most odious to 
the ordinary observer that the naturalist finds the most 
interesting habits. Here, now, is a nest made proba- 
bly by the caterpillar of a species of Tortrix. I 
found it on the edge of the woods back of Asbury 
Park within sight of the ocean. I have seen multi- 
tudes of these globular nests about the size of an Eng- 
lish walnut, rolled up at the tips of the leaves of the 
great fern, Aspidiwn thch/ptcris (Fig. 129.) See how 
deftly the leaves have been rounded and sewed into this 
spherical mass ! And here is the little door out of which 
the transformed insect made its escape. Small forests 
of this fern grow in low and moist places along our 
Atlantic coast, and there you may find colonies of this 
leaf-roller or their abandoned nests in the months of 
July and August." 

" I have often noted those clumps of tall ferns in my 
summer saunterings by the sea," remarked Abby; "but 






SARTOR INSECT ORUM. 415 

I never came across any of these beautiful objects, I am 
sure." 

"Doubtless thee came across them, but never ob- 
served them," suggested Aunt Hannah; "but that 
was before thee had learned the value of the ' seeing 
eye ' by Friend May field's Conversations. I warrant 
that hereafter thee will see more things in thy vaca- 
tion jaunts than thee ever dreamed of— at least, I can 
say as much for myself, I think." 

"I stand corrected," returned the Schoolma'am, 
blushing. " But," she continued, " I have learned the 
value of a seeking tongue if not of the ' seeing eye '; so 
I will e'en ask, what is the purpose of this nest, and 
how is it made V" 

"A fair enough question," I answered ; "but I fear 
that I must somewhat disappoint your curiosity.- 
However, I will tell you what I know about other leaf- 
rollers, and we shall thus, perhaps, easily infer how 
this pretty spherical nest was made. To begin with, 
this, like all nests of leaf-rolling caterpillars, is the 
home of a single insect. The mother moth deposits its 
eggs separately upon the food-plant of its young, 
appropriating a leaf to each egg. As soon as the cater- 
pillar is hatched it begins to spread its leafy tent above 
it, impelled thereto by the double purpose of securing 
itself from predatory birds and assailing insects, and of 
providing adequate food. It is not only important for 
it to feed, but to feed in safetjr. 

Sometimes the little hermit commences work upon 
the upper, sometimes upon the under surface of the 



416 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

leaf. Its mode of operation is generally very simple, 
and you will better understand it by looking at these 
figures (Figs. 13Q-131), which show the nest of the Oak- 





FIGS. 130-131. — WORK OF LEAF-ROLLING MOTH. 
(AFTER RENNIE.) 

leaf roller in several stages of progress. The caterpillar 
fixes to the edge of the leaf a few short threads, which 
it spins from its mouth, and draws them to the op- 
posite edge ; or it stretches a thread from the tip and 
edges of the leaf to the mid-rib. Next it takes position 
at or near the middle of these lines and bears down or 
pulls down upon them. Of course the tightening of 
the threads naturally curls up the edges of the leaf. 
Do you understand that, Harry ?" 

" Well, I— I - — ," began the boy. 

"Speak straight out, lad !" said Hugh, "and don't 
be ashamed of honest ignorance. Let your yea be yea, 
and your nay, nay, and don't worm around the truth 
when it's put straight to ye." 



SARTOR 1NSEGT0RUM. 



417 




Thus admonished by his father, 
Harry uttered an emphatic, "No, 
sir !" 

"Very well, let us try an ex- 
periment. I loop an end of these 
cords into the edge of this sheet of 
paper. So ! I take these pins and 
fasten the other ends of the cords 
into the sheet, thus — just far enough 
along to tighten the cords and lift 
up the edge of the paper a very 
little. Now take this stick and push 
down upon the middle part of the 
cords." (Fig. 133.) 

Harry followed my directions, and 
as the edges of the manilla sheet, 
drawn upon by the taut string, raised and curled 
over, his face lighted up with a bright smile, and he 
exclaimed : 

" Oh, it's plain enough now 1 I quite understand !" 




FIG. 132. — NEST OP 
LEAP - ROLLING 
CATERPILLAR. - 




FIG. 133, — SHOWING HOW THE LEAF IS CURLED. 



418 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

" Very well," I continued, " let the stick drop down 
to the paper. Here at the points where the cords 
touch I thrust pins through them into the table. Re- 
move your stick now, and there ! You see that the 
sheet reemains quite curled over. That is substantially 
the leaf-roller's mode of curling a leaf; except, of 
course, that, instead of pinning down its threads, it 
glues them down to the leaf; and, by a succession of 
like operations, succeeds in making one complete roll 
or cylinder, and then another and another, until its 
full growth is attained. 

"And, now, you want to know what the caterpillar 
does in its leafy tent ? Well, having made its home, 
it straightway proceeds to eat it." 

"Verily," said Aunt Hannah, who could not resist 
the opportunity to draw a moral lesson, "there are 
human beings who have the same unhappy faculty. 
Many a good house and fair farm have I known to dis- 
appear down the gullet of the glutton and wine-bibber. 
Truly, Holy Scripture well calls man ' a worm ' — 
although, perhaps, Friend Mayfield, thy caterpillar 
doesn't exactly illustrate the mind of the Spirit in that 
phrase." 

The closing sentence was evidently forced into this 
apologetic strain by the smile which I could not re- 
strain at the quaint use which the good woman had 
found for my little leaf-roller. 

"Pardon me," I said, "your lesson is not less 
profitable because it awakes mirthfulness. But really, 
Aunt Hannah, you have done the worm injustice by 



SARTOR INSECTORUM. 419 

your metaphor. The creature never eats itself out of 
house and home after the fashion of our species ; it 
cuts windows and doors through its leaf partitions, 
passing thereby from one to another, but the instinct 
which urged it to its first act of protection prevents 
it from destroying its outer defenses." 

" In other words," said Abby, speaking up sharply, 
"a worm will do better for itself under the sway of 
Instinct than some men under the rule of Reason. 
Why is that?" 

"Excuse me, Miss Abby, if I decline to follow up 
your question fully. It would lead us into very deep 
waters, indeed, and we should perhaps need Dr. Good- 
man to bring us back to harborage. But let me say 
there is some strange element which somewhere in 
man's history has overpassed the bounds and bars of 
the common laws of Nature and found place within 
him. It is peculiar to him — alien from his fellow- 
creatures of the lower orders. It has jarred his nature 
at many points, and made it discordant with the catho- 
lic Unity and Law. It has set him upon paths that 
lead to depths below the brutes. Sovereign of the 
creatures as he is, it has yet betrayed him into inferior 
traits, and shown him the baser and weaker vessel. 
At some point in history man's inner constitution has 
undergone a strange — a terrible revolution. When was 
it ? What is it ? I cannot say — at least I will not say 
now. I do not know " 

"Friend Mayfield, I know, if thee does not !" Aunt 
Hannah dropped her work into her lap, and broke into 



420 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

my unfinished sentence with very firm but tremulous 
voice. "It is an old, old truth. Why should thee 
spare to speak it ? 'God hath made man upright, but 
the}' have sought out many inventions.' That is the 
strange element, the fact, the revolution which you are 
thinking about ; sin hath entered in ! " 

It was plainly a truth in which Aunt Hannah did 
not glory, for as she finished her sentence and resumed 
her knitting, her mild eyes slowly fell, and tears 
trickled over the white cheeks and dropped into her 
lap. 

It was an unexpected diversion from our theme, and 
an embarrassing silence came upon the room, whose 
solemnity old Dan interrupted in his own peculiar waj\ 
He had sunk from his cricket almost into the attitude 
of prayer, and, with hands clasped over his breast, 
swayed to and fro. 

"Good Lor', hab marcy !" he at last exclaimed. 
" Dar's no deny in' hit — we's all pore sinners, shore 
'nough, and is chock full uv upsottin' sins. Hit's jes 
dat,' Mars Mayfiel', and nufiin else. As de good 
Book saze, hit 's de upsottin sins w'at 's done de 
damage." 

" Shall we go back to our subject ?" I asked, after a 
moment's pause. 

kt I was a-thinkin'," said Hugh, " w'ile you and the 
iadies was talkin', that I 'd like to ax you a question 
about worms. " The good fellow had evidently small 
interest in a discussion of that phase of man's natural 
history which relates to human depravity. Indeed, he 



SARTOR INSECTORUM. 



421 



was on such honest and kindly terms with himself and 
all his fellows that it had probably never seriously oc- 
curred to him to think of himself as very much of a 
sinner. He had therefore engaged his thoughts upon 
another subject duriug our theological digression. "I 
was a-wonderin' w'at sort uv varmin is them apple- 
tree caterpillars. I allow they mought be tailor insects, 
too ? 'Tall events they 's mighty peert at spiunin' and 
leaf-curlin', and powerful destructive on the leaves. 
I'd like to know w'at you make out'n them." 





FIGS. 134 AND 135. — FEMALE AND MALE OF THE TENT- 
CATERPILLAR MOTH. 



"You are thinking of the tent-caterpillar," I an- 
swered, "and an interesting fellow he is, although his 
habits are certainly against him. We have two 
common species closely resembling each other in form 
and alike in habit. They are the apple-tree tent- 
caterpillar (Clisiocampa Americana), and the forest 
tent caterpillar (^Clisiocainpa disstrid). The moth is a 
dull reddish or reddish-brown color, and the female 
measures about an inch and a half across the expanded 
wings (Figs. 134 and 135). The hollow tongue or tube 
by which moths imbibe their food is entirely wanting in 



422 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

this species, hence it has no power of taking food, and 
lives but a few days in the winged state, during which 
time the eggs are laid. A large number of the nocturnal 
visitors to our lamps during the evenings of July 
belong to this Clisiocampa, and so, without knowing it, 
you are all familiar with the creature, as you have seen 
its bewildered behavior when it enters our lighted 
rooms and flutters wildly about the often fatal flame. 

" The eggs are deposited upon the small twigs 01 
fruit trees in ring-like clusters, each composed of from 
fifteen to twenty rows, containing in all from two to 
three hundred. They are firmly cemented together, 
and coated with a tough varnish impervious to rain. 
The young larvae are fully matured in the egg before 
winter comes, and they remain in this enclosure in a 
torpid state throughout the cold weather, and hatch 
during the first warm days of spring. Their first meal 
is made of the gummy material with which the egg 
masses are covered, and their next of the tender buds 
just bursting. 

" Soon after hatching they begin to spin the tent-like 
shelter which gives them their name, by stretching 
silken threads from point to point across the forks of 
the twigs whereon they have been cradled. As they 
grow they spin new threads, laying them one atop of 
another, and extending them to adjoining twigs, until 
the spinning-work has become a close sheet by the 
repeated overlays. The structure is now more or less 
irregular in form, according to the relative position of 
the twigs which support it. Often the nest is located 



SARTOR INSECTORUM. 



423 




s. 



FIG. 136. — NEST OF THE TEXT-CATERPILLAR MOTH. 



at the top of the twigs which, having a general conical 
outline, give it naturally the appearance of an old- 
fashioned Sibley tent or Indian wigwam. (Fig. 136.) 

" The resemblance is frequently very striking, as may 
be seen in this figure of a forest tent-caterpillar's nest 
which I saw growing upon a wild cherry-tree at the 
base of Round Top on the famous battle-field of Gettys- 
burg. Numbers of similar structures were fixed among 
the branches of various trees, whose white texture was 
brought out sharply against the dark-green of the 
embowering leaves. As I turned from them and gazed 



424 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

upon the martial city — an encampment of the National 
Guards — whose canvas tents were pitched upon the 
battle plain and swelling ridge over which the gallant 
but fruitless charge of Pickett's corps was made, I 
could plainly see that likeness to which our tent- 
making caterpillar owes its popular name. The tent 
here figured was about ten inches in diameter across 
the base, and its height was nearly the same ; this is 
about the average size, but many of the tents are 
larger. 

"The holes through which the caterpillars enter are 
near the extremities or angles of the nest, into which 
they retreat at night, or in stormy weather, and dwell 
when not feeding. They have regular times for feed- 
ing, and may be seen marching out of their tent-doors 
in processions usually twice a day, forenoon and after- 
noon. These -processions move in single or double 
column, over sidewalks, along fences, trunks and 
branches of trees, until they reach their proper food- 
plant which they attack with a voracity that brings 
serious damage when the nests are numerous. 

"In five or six weeks they mature, when they leave 
the trees under the resistless impulse of Nature, and 
wander about in all directions seeking suitable places 
in which to> hide during their crysalis stage. Pre- 
sently you will find them under the cap-boards and 
cross-rails of fences, in angles, recesses, and beneath 
projections of various sorts, spinning tough, yellow 
oval cocoons enclosed within a slight shelter of threads. 
Within these cocoons the larvae change to brown 



SARTOR INSECTORUM. 425 

crysalids, from which the moths escape in two or three 
weeks." 

"Well, sir," said Hugh, "it's an amazin' pleasin' 
history that you've given us, but you'd make it a heap 
more interestin' to farmers ef you'd tell us wat to do 
to git rid uv the worms." 

"Against some of our insect enemies," I replied, 
''man struggles at great disadvantage. They attack 
him in such insidious guise at such unexpected times, 
at points so inaccessible, in forms so minute, in num- 
bers so immense, that the wisest and most diligent 
may be taken unawares. But our tent-caterpillars 
are no guerillas, but right honest and open foes. They 
pitch their camps under our very eyes and march out 
to assault like genuine soldiers in broad day. If a 
farmer does not exterminate them or hold them within 
harmless limits he suffers from his own laziness, in- 
difference, or neglect. " 

"Well, yes, that's so, I reckon," Hugh responded. 
"But the plague on 't is that sech a feller's acres git 
to be a breedin' ground for all sorts uv nuisances, and 
the rest an us have to suffer with him." 

"True," I said, "and then there is no remedy but 
the law ; and the time will come, perhaps, when 
farmers — who have the maiority of votes — will not 
think it beneath their dignity to enact laws concerning 
the destruction of insect pests " 



CHAPTER XXI. 

NATURE'S FIRST PAPER MAKERS. 

Before snowfall one of the most beautiful walks 
from the Old Farm leads over the Crum Creek hills to 
the paper mill of Mr. Lewis Howard. The path 
threads the meadow by the Cave Stone, crossing 
Townes' Run, and so over the field along a pleasant 
lane to the woodland which is, in fact, the east bank of 
the creek. A wagon trail winds through the wood 
along the verge of the hill and enters the mill road 
flush upon the creek side 

The stream in this vicinity is quite sinuous, and cuts 
its way by a steep channel among the hills which on 
either side form the banks. These are in many places 
so abrupt and heavily wooded, that one pushes his way 
with difficulty through the underbrush. Here is the 
"forest primeval ;" here Nature is held in a virginity 
pure as that which the white man seized from the red 
Indian's hand. In this wild park Flora holds court, 
and beneath the boughs of chestnut, oaks, hickory, 
maple, beech, birch, dogwood and hemlock are gath- 
ered clumps of laurel, sumach, mammoth ferns, and all 
the wood plants and wood flowers oi" the whole region. 

It is a paradise of wood insects, too. The large black 

Pennsylvania carpenter ants march in columns along 
426 



NATURE'S FIRST PAPER MAKERS. 427 

the great tree trunks, at whose roots heaps of drippings 
lie, showing the industry of the busy woodworkers 
within. The Fuscous ants (Formica fusca) here deliv- 
ered from the taint of slavery to their Sanguine or 
Shining Masters, take on an air of forest freedom and 
build broad mounds fearless of remark instead of 
skulking within hidden dens ; beetles, crickets and 
numberless other insects push a thousand trails under 
the fallen leaves and branches. 

Here Araclme has gathered many children as into 
a safe nursery. The woods swarm with spiders, 
whose webs of varied sorts and sizes hang from limbs, 
stretch over the water, overlace roots, rocks, crevices, 
hollow trunks, leaves and logs, and extend from branch 
to branch across every opening, napping their sticky 
filaments in the passer's face. How often have I gone 
to this resort, when anxious to collect a specimen or 
verify or complete a study of aranead habits, confi- 
dent that somewhere in this narrow belt of forest my 
search would be rewarded ! 

At the point where the wagon trail leaves the woods 
the creek runs close along the mill road, then gradu- 
ally hugs the opposite hillside, leaving a narrow strip 
of flatland. It is bordered by a fine row of trees 
which overhang the water. The proprietor has an 
admirable peculiarity for an American. Some kind 
genius has written deeply upon the fleshy tablets of his 
he'art the well known plea, " Woodman spare that 
tree!" — written so deeply, that he will never allow 
one tree to be cut down if there is any possible way to 



428 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

avoid doing so. At the end of this row of trees the 
creek and road make a sharp angle or horse-shoe bend, 
and bring into view the Franklin Mill. It is a large fine 
stone structure, set close against the hill and flanked 
on either side by pretty stone cottages for the work- 
men. The proprietor's mansion sets upon the crown 
of the knoll and overlooks the whole pleasing scene. 

It would be hard to find a mill site more charming 
and romantic than this. The overhanging trees flushed 
with the growing hues of autumn ; the rippling music 
of the creek, as it issues adown the deep ravine, 
mingling gradually with the thud of water-wheels and 
clatter of machinery ; the shout of a merry group 
of children jumping the rope before a cottage door ; 
the sun lying warm and bright in the lap of the beauti- 
ful glen shut in from all sights and sounds of the 
outside world — surely the venerable, kind-hearted pro- 
prietor who looks on such a scene from his house 
on yonder hummock, must feel that the lines have 
fallen to him in pleasant places ! 

We had taken this walk one day over the withering 
autumnal fields, among the rustling leaves, through 
the smell of wood-mold — how sweet to the forester ! — 
along the beetling banks of shady Crum Creek, for 
the purpose of seeing the process of paper-making. 
Our next Conversation touched those natural paper- 
makers, the wasps ; and some of our circle wished to 
draw a comparison — or will it be a contrast ? — between 
the human and the insect methods. "We are not to 
lead our readers through the details of the process as 



NATURE'S FIRST PAPER MAKERS, 429 

pointed out to us by my friend and landlord Mr. 
Howard, although that might be new, and certainly 
would be interesting to many. It will suffice that 
the mode consists substantially in reducing vegetable 
fibre of wood, straw, cotton, hemp or flax into pulp, 
from which the moisture is excluded and the residium 
exposed to a pressure that reduces it to flat sheets. 
The quality, surface condition and size of sheets are 
matters quite apart from this essential .process. 

Somewhat thus I briefly stated the results of our 
visit to the mill, at our conversation. " Have I put 
it correctly, Mr. Howard?" I asked, for that gentle- 
man, hearing what subject was to come before us, had 
asked leave to attend. 

" Yes, that is about the substance of paper-making," 
was the reply. "It seems a very simple one, as you 
put it, sir ; but — there's a whole sea of trouble between 
that brief statement and even such a result as this " — 
laying his hand upon our manilla illustration paper. 
" However, you have hit the fundamental principle of 
the thing pat enough." 

"Very well, that is all I care to do. }s"ow, here is 
a wasp's nest (Fig. 137.) It was collected from the 
premises of the old Springfield Central school, where 
our friend,. Miss Abby, is now engaged. The plain, 
square, two-story building, as you know, stands in an 
open, flanked by a grove of more than a score of tall 
oak-trees. The branches of these oaks are thickly 
colonized, by ringed wasps — "Tailor wasps," I find 
they are called by the country-side people. On one 



430 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 




FIG. 137. — NEST OF THE RINGED OR RUST-RED WASP (POLISTES 
ANNULARIS.) 

tree I counted thirteen nests, and I am quite sure that 
more were hidden among the leaves. Every tree is 
occupied, and several nests are hung upon the black- 
berry vines that skirt the fence close by the wall. 
Thus, while some of the wasps swing their domiciles 
far aloft, fifty or sixty feet above ground, others 
choose sites nearer terra firma. This indifference as 
to location is more or less evident among those who, 
like the famous Swiss Robinsons, build their houses 
in trees, for the nests are scattered indifferently 
throughout the branches, one of the largest which I 
have seen being pendant from a limb that bends quite 



NATURE'S FIRST PA1ER MAKERS. 43l 

low. The colon}- has occupied the school-house 
grounds for at least a half-century, for men who were 
boys that long ago remembered them well. I fancy 
that exposure to the raids of destructive boys during 
all these wasp-generations has not been without effect 
upon the insects, for most of the nests are placed well 
out of reach. Indeed, one wonders that any mother- 
wasps could be found so far freed from a strain of 
hereditary caution as to venture a location within 
reach of puerile projectiles. 

"It is an interesting sight to observe the worker 
wasps gathering material for their nests, and it may 
be seen on any summer day along the lines of fences 
near the school-house. I have often tried to keep a 
worker under observation for a prolonged period, but 
have failed beyond a few consecutive moments. The 
creature is a perfect embodiment of restless activity. It 
alights upon a weather-beaten spot, and, bending down- 
ward its head, plies its strong jaws until a bit of wood 
is dislodged. Meanwhile, its wings are kept in a state 
of continual agitation, its abdomen curves and vibrates, 
and sometimes is turned up at an angle of 45°. Its legs 
are incessantly lifted and set down, but stiffened out 
at the moment of dislodging the wood as they are 
braced for a strong tug. By the time one has well 
fixed his eyes upon the palpitating creature, it has 
spread its wings and is away. I follow it at full 
speed. Once more it alights ; it has struck a good 
spot for collecting material surely ! — a fine, whitish, 
weather-worn patch of wood whose fibres are exposed. 



482 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

This must be a real bonanza for the wasp ! But no ! 
She glides over the rail with fluttering wings, and is 
off to another place. Her actions, the reasons that 
seem to determine her choice and final decision are as 
incomprehensible to me as the proceedings of ladies 
when on a shopping expedition. 

" At last, however, she has gathered a little ball of 
wood-fibre ; she throws herself back upon her two 
pairs of hind-legs, and standing thus in a semi-erect 
posture, like a squirrel eating a nut, she adjusts the 
pellet to her jaws with her fore-paws and flies 
away with it to the nest. This is fastened to the 
branches by a central stalk which is firmly tied and 
pasted on. The stalk is usually directed upward, or 
somewhat inclined, so that the mouth of the cells is 
downward. The bottom parts of the cells are thus 
upward, and as they are united and covered with a 
paper floor the whole series forms a sort of hanging- 
platform. On this platform n bevy of wasp-workers 
may usually be seen engaged in chewing up the woody 
fibres into pulp, or preparing wax for the cell-covers, 
or grinding up ' pap ' for the baby grubs. When the 
pulp is prepared it is pasted in thin flakes on the 
ledges of the cells, and spread and shaped chiefly by 
the action of the mandibles, although somewhat aided 
by the feet. A secretion from the salivary glands of 
the wasp, which corresponds with the ' sizing ' used 
by paper manufacturers, helps to bind the fibrous 
pulp into a compact mass that quickly hardens into a 
rude but efficient papier mache. 



NATURE'S FIRST PAPER MAKERS. 433 

" The nests are circular or oval in shape and of vari- 
ous sizes. This specimen is seven inches in diameter, 
and I have seen one at least one-half larger. The size 
is determined by the number of young, for each of these 
cells contains a single larva." 

* i Tell us, please, how the nest begins," said Abby. 
" Do the wasps live through the winter ?" 

" !N"o ; the workers all die with the frost ; but a few 
of the females survive the winter. They hide in cran- 
nies : for example, under the eaves of your schoolhouse 
roof, or other sheltered places, and live through the 
cold months in a torpid state. The warmth of spring 
summons them from their retreats, and they at once 
begin the foundation of a family. Having cho'sen a 
site they proceed to build a few cells in which the}' 
place eggs that in time become larvae. These are fed 
by the mother until ready to pass into the pupa stage, 
when the cells are sealed up, and so remain until the 
perfect insects emerge. The first born are workers, 
and at once take upon them the labors of the colony, 
leaving the queen to her proper duty of furnishing 
eggs. The nest grows by the addition of cells along the 
outer margin, into each of which as finished an egg is 
placed. The old cells also appear to be used, being 
cleaned out- and again furnished with eggs as soon as 
the younglings are fairly out of the way. Thus the 
last baby waspling falls heir to the cradle of its prede- 
cessor, as is often the case with our own infants." 

" What are these snow-white caps that cover so many 
of the. cells?" asked the Mistress. "I notice that 



434 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

some of the cells are without them — these along the 



' w The white caps are the ' seals ' placed upon the 
cells when the larvae spin into pupae. Observe that 
many of these caps are quite cut around the edges, 
showing that the young wasps have cut their way out. 
This specimen was gathered late in the summer, and as 
it lay upon a table in my library I could now and then 
hear the rasping of the wasps' mandibles as they 
gnawed the seal away, and ever and anon would see a 
youngling creep out of a cell by pushing up the cap 
like a lid, and then feebly crawl off and stretch its 
wings. But most of the inmates died within the cells. 
Perhaps the dry, warm air of 1113^ study was unfavora- 
ble to their escape, or they may have needed the jaws 
of their nurses to aid their egress. " 

"Are these caps made of paper, too?" asked Hugh. 

''No, they are in part a covering which the larvae 
themselves spin, and in part, probably, a sort of wax, 
secreted and applied by the workers, very much as 
with the wax- workers among bees. I leave you now to 
study the habits of these ringed wasps for yourselves, 
when next summer comes, and turn to another insect 
belonging to the same group of social wasps. Here is 
a hornet's nest, the most famous of our American 
paper-makers — Vespa maculata. " 

The specimen, which had been secured by the ener- 
getic search of Joe and Harry, was eighteen inches 
long and a foot in diameter at the thickest part. It was 
a pear-shaped structure, whose bulkier end was placed 




'-'• 



-f 



TIG. 138.— NEST OF AMERICAN HOKNET. (VESPA MACDLATA.) 



435 



436 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

upward as it hung from a strong branch that was 
quite wrapped around, and indeed had been somewhat 
overlaid by the layers of paper which formed the 
external envelope. At the bottom of the nest was a 
round opening which formed the only entrance to the 
interior (Fig. 138). A second specimen, a little smaller, 
I had cut quite in two b} r a longitudinal slit, thus ex- 
posing the entire structure of the nest. 

" Here we may see the whole cunning workmanship 
of this active insect. You observe that the outer walls 
have been laid on in several layers or sections, more or 
less regular, and are composed of a strong, coarse gray 
paper. The partition walls are united at various 
points, leaving a great number of oblong air-cham- 
bers." (Fig. 13V).) 

" Is the paper weather-proof?" asked Abby. 

" Try it," I said. A pitcher of water and a dish-pan 
were brought, and after various experiments it was 
found that the water rolled freely from the roof, which 
scarcely absorbed the moisture and left the interior 
quite dry. 

"That is truly excellent," remarked Aunt Hannah. 
" I wonder that some enterprising genius has not bor- 
rowed a hint from the hornet and gone to building 
paper houses." 

" And why not ?" said the Manufacturer. " We are 
utilizing paper more and more freely in the civilized 
arts, and have got even as far as to make railway car- 
wheels out of it ! Paper tiles or roofs, or even walls 
may surely be considered a possibility." 



NATURE'S FIRST PAPER MAKERS. 437 

"Very well," I resumed; "when, that triumph is 
achieved let us moderate our human vain-glory at least 
so much as to remember that the hornets had by some 
milleniads the priority of man. ^N"ow, look at the in-' 
side furnishing of this nest. Here are six separate 
circles, terraces or stories of hexagonal cells arranged 
one above another, and united by tough paper stalks or 
pillars, which are placed at or near the center. Other 
similar columns are distributed at sundry points along 
the floor, thus contributing to its support ; they are 
formed of long fibres, and broaden out at each end, 
where they are attached above and below. Each one 
of the combs, as they are called, resembles the nest of 
the ringed wasp, which, you see, differs from the 
hornet in always building a single comb and never 
enclosing it within walls." 

" Why is this difference ?" asked Abby. 

" Ah ! who will tell us ? I have never been able tc 
think of any reason based upon the idea of protection 
or any other probable necessity which conditions the 
hornet's life, but from which the wasp is free. It is 
one of those strange facts which mark the distinct in- 
dividuality of closely allied species, in accordance with 
the infinite variety seen in nature, and for which no 
apparent reason can be assigned." 

" Except, perhaps," suggested Aunt Hannah, rever- 
ently, " that infinite wealth of thought and skill which 
one must think to be the natural outcome of an Infinite 
Creative Mind." 

" A just remark, Aunt Hannah ; but Whatever ex- 



438 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

planation be suggested, the facts are sufficiently inter- 
esting. If you look again at this open nest you will see 
that the combs increase in size from the top to the 
center and then gradually decrease until this last of the 
series, which is a very small affair. The insect, of 
course, began its nest at the top, and built downward, 
having just commenced this lower comb when the work 
of the colony was forever stopped by Jack Frost. This 
process, you observe, is the reverse of our human 
modes of building, and probably will never be adopted 
by us, notwitstanding the ingenious proposal of the 
Laputan philosopher mentioned in 'Gulliver's Trav- 
els ' to imitate this peculiar feature in the hornet's 
architecture by building the garrets of every house first, 
and then gradually working downward to the lower 
stories and cellars !" 

The laugh which this quaint conceit awakened was 
interrupted by a remark from the Manufacturer : 

"I believe we do sometimes follow the hornet's order, 
in sub-aqueous architecture, for example, as when we 
build a bridge pier in mid-stream by caissons. Another 
example is found in the famous subterranean struc- 
tures of Home, known as the Catacombs, which served 
the primitive Christians not only as cemeteries but as 
homes and temples as well. But — excuse me ! — I do 
not wish to play the part of Gulliver's philosopher. " 

" Have I not heard some such theory applied to the 
building of the Pyramids ?" asked Abby. "I do not 
recall the details, but the author starts out with a quo 
tation from Herodotus who cites a rumor or tradition 




FIG. i39. — INTERIOR OF HORNET'S NEST, SHOWING THE 
•" COMBS," 



m 



440 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

that the great Egyptian edifices were begun at the 
summit and builded downward. Whether the notion 
were broached by a savant, a hobbyist or a crank, I do 
not remember, but it surely has a modern advocate 
somewhere." 

Here Sarah ventured an observation : 

"I don't wonder at sich a pesterin' inseck as a 
hornet buildin' its house top eend fust, or any other 
contrary way. Fer my part I don't want em buildin' 
round me nohow ! It's certain bad luck to have 'em 
make ther pesky nests in one's house, an' foretells 
that the family '11 be sure to come to want. I'd jest 
like to have the hull lot here in one good bunch ; I'd 
chuck 'em into the stove and be done with 'em !" 

"Hi, Sary Ann, dat's no good!" exclaimed Dan, 
whose tongue was unloosed by the remarks of his 
kitchen familiar; "Dat's no good at all. Hit's no 
sort of conjurin' to kill de common brood wen dey's 
growed up. But dar's a powerful difference wen it 
comes to the fust wasp ob de season. Hit's might}' 
good luck to kill dat un, I kin tell ye." 

"Well, then, tell us, won't you," responded Sarah, 
with some tartness; "there hain't no wisdom sittin' 
ther a-rollin uv your head an' turnin' up your eye-balls. " 

"Sary Ann," answered Dan, "dar's folkses wat has 
waspish tempers and a hornet's stinger fer a tongue — 
but dat's needer hyur nor dar. W T at I saze is dat hit's 
good luck to kill de fust wasp ob de season, kaze it 
foretells freedom from all enemies fer dat year, shore, 
Dat's all!" 



NATURE'S FIRST PAPER MAKERS. 441 

Sarah was not disposed to yield the point, especially 
as she was smarting under Dan's keen thrust. 

"Pshaw!" she exclaimed, "You culled pussons 
allez build your idees like a hornet does it's nest, 
upside down. Wat J'ue heern tell is that the very 
sight in the house uv the fust wasp uv the season, let 
alone killin' uv it, is sure to bring bad luck. It's a 
sign uv an onpleasant 'quaintance, and ther's no good 
luck in that, I'm sure I" 

The cook rattled her knitting needles vigorously, 
and shot a triumphant glance at her venerable an- 
tagonist. 

But Dan was not to be suppressed thus. Revolving 
on his cricket, he turned full toward the kitchen door, 
and assuming a demure expression and subdued tone, 
replied : 

u Xow den, Sary Ann, I 'low yo's rfgnt dis time. I 
gibs up de pint. I done remember, jes now, dat one 
tickler yaar I was so onlucky as to see de fust wasp ob 
de season ; dar was two ob dem in fac'. An' dat was 
de berry yaar I fust hab de honor to make ?/o' 'quen- 
tance, Sary Ann ! Ya-as, I guess yo's right dis time." 

He resumed his position on the cricket with a 
solemnity that was not disturbed by the general mer- 
riment of our party. The Mistress, however, was 
plainly not amused. Her face was flushed and drawn 
into lines of disapprobation, as she turned upon me a 
glance of remonstrance. Indeed, it was only in the 
face of many protests that I had been able to carry my 

purpose to keep the room on Conversation Nights a 

28 



442 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

" Liberty Hall," wherein all should be held equal and 
encouraged to the utmost freedom. With most of our 
domestic circle there had been no embarrassment, but 
Dan and Sarah had such an irrepressible tendency to 
carry their kitchen sparring into the conversations 
that the good housewife was often shocked. 

" It will quite overturn my domestic discipline," she 
affirmed; "and destroy all dignity in our relations 
with the household helpers. It is preposterous to allow 
Sarah and Dan such liberties !" 

However, this course seemed to me the only one to 
evoke the peculiar notions that I wished to reach, and 
which come only with perfect freedom. So the Mistress 
yielded with what grace she could, although her pa- 
tience was sometimes sorely tried, as on this occasion. 
Perhaps, I may here say that the good wife's predic- 
tions were not fulfilled, for the spirit of our Liberty 
Hall evening never seemed to invade the ordinary ser- 
vices of the house and farm. But this may suffice for 
apology. 

" We have not quite finished the natural history of 
the hornet," I resumed. " Almost as soon as the first 
cells are formed in the early spring, the building of 
the nest-covering is commenced. At first it has the 
appearance of .a miniature umbrella, but as the cell- 
work grows it is expanded and drawn downward until 
it quite encloses the combs. The larvae, of course, from 
the reversed positions of the cells, live head downward, 
and this posture they are said to retain by means of a 
gummy secretion at first, and afterward by the swollen. 



NATURE'S FIRST PAPER MAKERS 443 

front of the body which fills the open part of the cell. 
At all events, the little heads are conveniently placed 
for the nursing workers, who move over the surface of 
the comb pressing into open baby mouths the nourish- 
ing ' pap ' which has been prepared for them by the 
very primitive mode of chewing." 

"Does thee know what sort of food this hornet pap 
is composed of?" asked Aunt Hannah. 

"It is probably the juices of insects for the most 
part. The proper food of hornets, wasps and other 
Yespidae is somewhat in doubt. In spring and early 
summer they feed on the sweets of flowers, but later 
in the season develop a taste for fruit, and attack 
strawberries, plums, grapes, pears — even entering 
houses to help themselves to dishes on the table. But 
they are carniverous in their appetite also ; they will 
eat raw meat, as you may see by visiting our village 
batcher shops. They are insectiverous, too, and carry 
war into the insect world, their weapon not being their 
sting as with their relations the Mud-daubers and 
Digger Wasps, but their formidable jaws. They fall 
upon flies and butterflies, bite oft' their wings, feet 
and head and devour the trunk. They even destroy 
honey-bees, assailing them on their return from the 
fields laden with pollen. They throw themselves upon 
their victims, tear the abdomen from the thorax and 
and suck its contents. I have known persons who 
have turned this insect-devouring propensit}' of hor- 
nets to good purpose by hanging one of their nests in 
a, bouse much infested by the common house fly, from 



444 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

which, I have been told, they soon make a thorough 
riddance of the annoying insects." 

This touched upon Sarah's department, and she ex- 
pressed her interest by saying : " I kin vouch fer part 
of them facts, anyway. The hornet's do ketch flies, 
I'll say that much for the pesky critters. I've often 
seen 'em pitch through the kitchen winders like mad, 
bounce upon the flies and clear away with them. But 
lawsamassy, ther haint no one goin' to get out a patent 
on that kind uv a fly trap ! Eer who'd want sech a 
reglar hostyle sallyport es that around, I'd like to 
know ? I reckon the remedy 'd be wuss 'n the cure.'.' 

" I can't speak from observation," I responded, " but 
I have been told that the experiment brought no incon- 
venince ; that as long as the hornets were not meddled 
with, they molested no one. This much I can say, 
that in nvy numerous field excursions, I have never 
been meddled with by the stinging insects except when 
I gave them some provoking cause. However, I have 
no zeal to prove the usefulness of the hornet or press 
it into duty as a servant of man. But we wander from 
the point which I started to explain concerning the 
food of wasps. It is an open question with entomolo- 
logists whether all the insect food thus captured is used 
for the nurture of the larva?, or whether it is partly 
appropriated to the creatures' own use. I do not ven- 
ture an opinion on the subject." 

" They do say," remarked Hugh, returning to the 
point of usefulness, " that the smoke of a burned hor- 
net's nest is useful. I've heerd horsemen say that it 's 




JIG. 140.— wasp's nest with tubular entrance, 
(one half natural size.) 

445 



446 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

good fer distemper, but I never tried it myself. Ther's 
a sayin' too, w'ich I larnt w'en a boy that they 're 
weather-wise and kin foretell w'at kind of a winter 
we're goin' to hev. It runs this a-way : 

* If hornets build low, 
Winter storms and snow ; 
When hornets' nests hang high, 
Winter mild and drj\' 

Howsomever, I reckon ther's not much in that fore- 
cast, kase the varmint seem to take it pretty much as it 
comes, some high, some low, in the same season. T 
don't count so much on them sort uv say ins as I used 
to ; though insecks is powerful wise critters in many 
things, I allow." 

"Are the hornets spoken of in Scripture (Josh., 24, 
12, Deut. 7, 20) the same insects as ours ?" asked Aunt 
Hannah. 

" The Bible hornet is probably the common Euro- 
pean species, Vespa crabro. It is quite like our own 
species in habits, but prefers to build in a hollow tree 
or similar site. It has been naturalized in America, 
and ' I have specimens of its combs from New Jersey. 
But our evening is quite worn away, and we must close 
this Conversation. Before we do so, however, I call 
your attention to this pretty nest, which somewhat re- 
sembles the hornet's. It is much smaller, being about 
the size and shape of a Bartlett pear. I found this spe- 
cimen in a low bush by the roadside just beyond our 
farmhouse. Its chief peculiarity is this tube about half 
an inch in diameter which forms the entrance or vesti- 



NATURE'S FIRST PAPER MAKERS. 447 

bule to the nest interior. The tube varies in length — 
I have seen one six inches long. I know nothing of 
the habits of the little architect, but greatly admire the 
skill with which it shapes its paper nursery and domi- 
cile." (Fig. 140). 

Good-nights were then said, and as our friend the 
Manufacturer left he expressed a hearty satisfaction 
and pride in his mute fellow-craftsmen of the insect 
world, and gave a warm invitation to visit his mill, and 
compare his methods of paper making with that of the 
wasps and hornets. The invitation, by the way, was 
accepted, and the whole party had the pleasure of 
making a tour of the factory under the personal conduct 
of the proprietor. The visit had an interest which was 
much keener and more intelligent because of our even- 
ing companionship with Nature : s first paper makers. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

NEW TENANTS AND OLD FRIENDS. 

As I close these reminiscences I find myself wonder 
ing on what principle the subjects here presented have 
been selected ? Somewhat at haphazard, no doubt. 
I am sure, at least, that the Conversations which 
I have written out by no means embrace the most 
interesting material. But where all is so full of in- 
terest, who will criticise my choice or censure my 
omissions ? When I look over my notes I see among 
the themes which engaged us such as these: "The 
Carpenter's Company " — relating to wood-working in- 
sects, as the Carpenter ants and bees ; " The Venerable 
Order of Undertakers," relating to the burrowing 
beetles and necrophagous insects ; " The Ancient 
Mariners," who gave us a pleasant evening with water 
insects; "Living Lamps," such as the lightning-bug 
and glow-worm ; " Insect Pets and Domestic Herds ;" 
"Kidnappers and Slaves," a story of the slave-mak- 
ing ants ; " Squatter Sovereignty," the mysterious 
history of insect parasitism ; " The Tyrant of T\v r o 
Elements," a history of dragon-flies; "The Summer 
Tourist's Pest," an account of the musquito and its 
allies ; "The Evolution of a Silk Gown," which can- 
vassed the life of the silk-worm. These are a few of 
448 



NEW TENANTS AND OLD FRIENDS. 449 

our subjects ; I will enlarge the list no further lest 
some unpitying publisher should be enamored of it, 
and lure me to write another book ! The Conversa- 
tions were prolonged far into the summer, and had a 
new element of interest in the fact that we could 
follow our insect friends to the fields and ply our study 
of their curious habits there. 

At last the time came to close our pleasant con- 
ferences. The prescription of the medical man had 
this time, at least, wrought a cure. Rest, change of 
scene and habit, life in the pure country air, gave tone 
to shattered nerves, and brought once more the joy of 
health, Our year's lease of the Old Farm expired as 
the golden days of October fell upon the landscape. 
It was not without pain that we bade adieu to our 
rural friends and returned to the cit3 r . Our hearts 
had sent out many strong rootlets around the Old 
Farm which we were loth to break. But we left new 
tenants in the dear old place, and that comforted us. 
Shall I tell who the tenants are ? 

Love, which breaks through iron bars, can prevail 
even over the stronger barriers of religious prejudice. 
It was long before Aunt Hannah gave way, but at last 
she bowed to the inevitable, and Penn Townes married 
Abby Bradford. It was agreed that Penn would not 
forsake the Meeting, even though he should be " turned 
out,'" and that was some mitigation of the good 
woman's trial. There was one condition which the 
Mistress and I had named that was at length conceded. 
The young people were married at the Old Farm just 



450 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

before we ceased to be its Tenants. Dr. Goodman 
officiated, and a happier evening never brightened 
within the venerable walls than that which saw the 
consummation of so fitting a union. 

A voice at my side has just said : " Tell them some- 
thing about all the rest, dear. People do love to hear 
what becomes of the folks in whom they are in- 
terested ?" 

It is the Mistress who speaks, older in years, indeed, 
but young as ever — younger than ever in the vigor and 
charm of that love whose devotion is the sweetest re- 
membrance of those invalid days at Highwood. 

Well, then, for the Mistress' sake, if not for the 
reader's, I will write the chronicle, which is neither 
long nor eventful. 

The last time that I visited the Old Farm was to 
attend a "house-warming," given on the occasion of 
Penn Townes entering into possession of the place, 
which he had bought. Thus, after years of alienation, 
it had come back to the family who reclaimed it first 
to civilization. The event was an auspicious one, and 
well deserved celebration. What a royal time we had 
with kindred and neighbors, old and young ! 

Abby, grown quite matronly, presided with that 
characteristic animation which marked her earlier 
years. Her fine brood of younglings thrive in the 
country air. The oldest bears the name of Hannah, 
a peace offering, or, perhaps, I should say a thank- 
offering to good Mother Townes. The second, a sturdy 
lad, is proud to be called Fielding Mayfield Townes ; 



NEW TENANTS AND OLD FRIENDS. 451 

and somewhere in the series there is a little blue-eyed 
Kate, a namesake of the Mistress. 

" AY as Penn cat off from membership for marrying 
out of Meeting ?" 

No; he is still "in good standing," at least in so 
far that he has not been formally "turned out." But 
if you ask me why, I can give you no light beyond the 
facts ; perhaps the subject is still under consideration 
by the Society. Be that as it may, there are few more 
regular worshipers at the Springfield Meeting House 
than Penn Townes, and when family duties will allow, 
Abby finds great pleasure in accompam-ing her hus- 
band, especially as the traditional " scuttle " bonnets 
have long since been eschewed by the younger women 
Friends. The elder children also are sometimes taken ; 
but such fidgeting as attacks the dear bairns during the 
solemn quietude that often pervades the Meeting is 
pitiful to see. To the mind of some of the stricter 
Friends, it seems something very like a temptation of 
the Adversary. But the major part, perhaps correctly, 
attribute it wholly to Friend Abby's stirring Yankee 
blood. 

Hugh has left the tenant house and occupies a farm 
of his own. Jenny lives at home, a soldier's widow. 
Joe marched off Southward in the rebellion days with a 
"Springfield rifle" on his shoulder — that weapon, by 
the way, was not named after our old Quaker Meeting- 
house — and returned with a major's golden leaf upon 
his shoulder-straps. And well he deserved the honor, 
his comrades all declare. Harry went into my count- 



452 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

ing-house, and some day soon will be the head of the 
firm. He developed a strong taste for entomology, is 
an active member of the Academy of Natural Sciences, 
and a good authority in the American Hymenoptra. 

"Tell them what became of Sarah," the Mistress 
said, prompting me as I paused in my narrative. " In 
spite of her superstition and sharp tongue, I am sure 
she has some friends among your readers." 

Oh, to be sure. There is a spice of romance in her 
story, too. Sarah's 'matrimonial wentur,' as she was 
wont to call him, turned up at last, and despite his 
long desertion, was welcomed and received by the faith- 
ful cook. Tom had been a member of a Colorado bat- 
tery during the war, had saved most of his wages, 
gathered no end of good sense by his experience, and 
being thoroughly homesick, came back East. He» 
found Sarah still officiating in the Old Farm kitchen 
under the new regime and the two ' tuk up agin',' to 
use the quaint phrasing of the country-side. When 
Hugh vacated the tenant-house, the re-mated pair 
moved in, and there they dwell. Sarah has learned 
something as, well as Tom, and carries a less waspish 
tongue than in earlier days. However, she has never 
given up her fancy for the conch-shell, and winds its 
rude notes at noon and evening with a never-failing 
gusto. 

"Old Dan now," said the Mistress. "You musn't 
forget him." 

Forget old Dan ? Xo ! I have received too much 
genuine comfort from that odd patriarch to omit him 



NEW TENANTS AND OLD FRIENDS. 453 

from this chronicle. I last saw him on the occasion 
of the house-warming to which I have alluded. He 
spends his summers at the Farm, as a sort of family 
pensioner, and busies himself with such light chores 
as he takes a fancy to. He was engaged that day in a 
large potato field just across the lane in the congenial 
work of killing potato beetles. The story of that ser- 
vice is worth telling. 

"MarsPenn," said Dan, " w'y doan yo do suthin' 
mother to kill clem tater bugs ? Dat patch '11 be -clar 
cleaned, out less yo do. Hit's done ruined now, nigh- 
amost." 

" There's no use trying any more, Dan," was the 
answer. "I've spent already more time and money 
than the whole field '11 bring. I shan't try any more. 
The bugs are too much for us. Let the plaguey things 
have the potatoes ; they 're bound to, anyhow." 

"Now den, Mars Penn, dat's jess too bad," re- 
sponded the negro. "Jess yo' lem'me try em onct. 
Gimme some Paris-green, and we'll see w'at ole Dan'll 
do wid dem pesky critters. We'll fix em yit ! Ho, 
ho ! nebber seed de bug dat got ahead ob old Dan ! 
Hi, yi !" 

The Paris-green was provided, and Dan was set to 
work, more to satisfy him than from any hope that he 
would be of real service. From that time on he gave 
his undivided attention to the "tater patch." Early 
in the morning when the dew was on the field, he was 
seen powdering the leaves of the infested tubers with 
the poison. During the day he continued the assault 



454 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

with his tin pan, knocking the larvae therein and bear- 
ing away quantities to the kitchen door to become the 
victims of boiling water, furnished by Sarah. 

By-the-way, the two old antagonists still continue 
their intellectual sparring and chaffing, but withal 
are very good friends. Many a tit-bit the cook saves 
for the old man, and the warmest nook by the kitchen 
stove is his. 

As Dan went about his daily work of slaughtering 
Colorado beetles, he kept up a running series of ejacu- 
lations, mingled vauntings, and mild imprecations. 
Often he laughed softly as he slowly moved along 
crooning and talking to himself. The warfare with 
the bugs had raised his spirits, evoking the element of 
combativeness, and inspiring him with new vigor. 
But age is telling sorely on him, and rheumatism has 
added to the weight of years to bow his back very 
much. I leaned upon the fence and watched and 
listened to him as he approached the end of a row of 
plants. 

" Hi, den ! Yo' jess go inter dat pan!" knocking 
off a score of insects, in various stages of development. 
"Plenty of company dar, now, but not much to eat, 
hey ? Well, I'll git you sumpin to drink, bymeby ! 
Ho, ho, ho ! Tea ?— no ! Tater soup ? — not much I 
Yo' got too much ob dat aready. Hot water, sah ! 
Bilin' !— ho, ho ! So yo' thot Dan couldn't circumwent 
tater bugs ? We'll see boout dat ! Bugs ? — hi ! I 
knows a heap more'n yo' tink boout clem, I kin tell yo\ 
I done gradewated long go. Reglar colledge larnt — ho. 



NEW TENANTS AND OLD FRIENDS. 455 

ho, ho ! Now, den, dat row's done, and de pan's 
boout full. Take 'cm off to Sary Ann. Mebbe she 
want's 'em for bug soup ! Hi ! House warmin' ? 
Yes, sah ! I reckon ole Dan'll give dese yur gemmin a 
reglar old-fashioned one ; no mistake boout dat !" 

As he shuffled along, he gazed into the pan with a 
radiant look, and skimmed the edges with his gray, 
knobby hand to push back the crawling insects. Thus 
busied he was passing me quite unnoticed. 

"Hello, there!" I called. 

Dan looked up suddenly, then hobbled up to the 
fence, laid down the pan, and reaching out both hands 
gave me a hearty greeting. But the reader will not be 
concerned with our talk, and I shall only state the issue 
of the conflict with the beetles before bidding Dan 
good-by. 

"I sold a thousand bushels of potatoes off that field," 
said Penn Townes, whom I met in the city one day the 
next winter. "If it hadn't been for old Dan's deter- 
mined fight, I wouldn't have got as many as I 
planted." 

The old man is living yet, and, for aught I know, is 
fighting potato beetles on the Old Farm even while I 
write these lines. 

There is one more friend whose memory craves a 
passing word. I drove one Sabbath day this summer 
to the Marple Church. The birds were warbling in the 
trees that skirt the churchyard ; the grasshoppers were 
shrilling from the waving verdure that grows rank 
among the graves ; little children were wandering 



456 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. 

among the tombs in their bright Sunday dresses ; and 
in one corner, close by the road, a rustic couple were 
standing by two marble stones, spelling out slowly the 
inscriptions thereon. I drove my horse close to the 
fence, and uncovering my head, joined the countryman 
and his wife in their homage at the grave of Dr. Good- 
man and his wife. Twin headstones, precisely alike in 
form and finish, mark the respective places of rest. At 
the top of the stone which marks the wife's grave are 
the words : 

" The Morning Cometh." 

In like position at the top of the Doctor's monument is 
the inscription : 

"A Morning Without Clouds." 

The eye glances from one to the other, and the separate 
mottoes read as one sweet, suggestive sentence, "The 
morning cometh " — " A morning without, clouds." 

Even so, dear friends, even so be it for us all ! 

Beneath the beloved name of pastor, husband, father, 
friend, is carved a text of Holy Scripture, never more 
fitly used in the elegiac inscriptions of churchyard, 
aisle and vault : 

"They that be wise shall shine as the brightness of 
the firmament ; and they that turn many to righteous- 
ness as the stars for ever and ever." 

[the end.] 



INDEX. 



Aeronautic flight of spiders, 140. 

Auisopteryx pometaria, 112. 

Ants, cutting, 230 sq. ; agricultural, 240; superstitions about, 247- 
agricultural, 331; stinging, 335; undergrade road or Formica 
integra in Fairmount Park, 337; Solomon and ant; 340, 349; har- 
vesting ants, 341 ; Occident ant, 344, 346; Pennsylvania harvester, 
348; carpenter, 426; fuscous and slave-making, 427. 

— Agricultural ants, cutting grass, 331 ; cleared disks or pavements. 

334; stinging ants, 335: ant clearing among weeds, 336; road- 
making. 337: gathering seed, 342; granaries, 343; mode of eat- 
ing, 345. 

— Cutting ants, 230: males, females, and workers, 237; queen strips 

off wings, 238; nests, 239; leaf -carrying, 243; mode of cutting, 
244; head of. 245; opening formicary, 253; caves of, 255; leaf- 
paper combs, 257: use of combs, 259; jaws or mandibles, 259: 
trees attacked. 260; engineering skill, 263; underground routes, 
264: closing gates, 266; opening gates, 267; gate engineering, 
268: digging and dumping, 271; modes of destroying, 274. 
- Occident ants (Pogonomyrmex occidentalis), mound of, 344; gran 
aries and storerooms, 346; gathering seeds, 347. 

Argiope argyraspis, cocoon, 35 ; snare, 37 ; decorations of web, 38. 

Argiope aurantia, 14: description and distribution, 17; figure of- 
snare and spider, 16; hgure of cocoon, 21; cocoon, 30; name 
derivation, 6u. 

Argyroneta aquatica, 207. 

Apple-worm, 91, 94. 

Atta few ens, 246. 

Bag-worms, see Basket-worms, Thridopteryx Psychidae. 

Ballooning spiders, 198. 

Basket-worms, superstitions about, 381; food plants, 384 ; specific 

name, 384; figures of baskets, 385 sq. ; seeking food, 387; mode 

of attaching scraps, 388 ; manner of eating, 389 ; walking, 394 ; 

protective habit, 397; wingless female, 398; mating, 399. 
Beads, viscid, of spiders, 217. 

Bee, humble, nest of, 145 ; history of, 145-184 ; see Humble-bee. 
Bee, leaf-cutting, description, 406; species of, 406; nest-making 

habits, 407; figures of nest, 409 ; furnishing the cells, 411. 

29 



458 INDEX. 

Bridges, spiders', 192, 202; baby-builders, 204. 
Butterfly, pupa, 50. 

OamponotIjs pennsylv amicus, 126, variety of C. herculaneus. 

Canker-worm, 112, 114. 

Carpenter ant, 426. 

Caterpillars, tent-maldng, 421. 

Cave men, 123. 

Cave spiders, 134. 

Chinartree defoliated by ants, 244, 261. 

Cicada, figures of, 311; difference between, and true locusts, 312; 

species, 313; musical organs, 314. 
Cicada, life after transformation, 352; do. as larvae, 354; ovoposi- 

tors, 355; eggs, 35"), 361; egg nests, 357; injury done by, 360, 364; 

not locusts, 361 ; young burrowing, 362; special instinct in descent 

of, 364; living on roots, 365; life under ground, 366; advent, 367; 

turrets, 368; enemies, 369; egress, 370; shells of, 371; literary 

allusions, 372 sq. 
Clisiocampa (genus), 421. 
Clothes' moth, 85. 
Cocoons, use of, 66. 
Codling moth, 92. 
Crickets, noisy shrilling, 279; superstitions about, 282, 289; white 

cricket, 285; species of, 286; egg-laying. 286; transformation, 287; 

house crickets, 289; habits, 290; black cricket, 29] ; music, 292, 

299; injurious, 303: derivation of name, 303; combative, 304? 

literary allusions, 305; cricket on the hearth, 306. 
Cutting ant, 336 sq. 
Cynthia moth, 53; cocoon, 63, 67. 
Cyclosa turbinata, 32. 
Cyrtophyllus concavus, 302. 

Death's-head moth, 77, 82. 

Engineering, insect, 185; of spiders. 192; cutting ants, 263. 
Epeira conspicellata, sewed nest of, 403. 
Epeira strix, 228, variety of E. cornuta. 
Ephemera, 353. 
Evolution, 150. 

Flying spiders, 192, 198. 

Formica fusca, 427. 

Formica integra, 337, variety of Formica rufa. 

Garden spider, 200, 210. 

Geometric spider, 210; how snare is made, 211. 

Geometrid moths, 104, 108. 

Grasshopper, 284, 294, 326, 



INDEX. 459 

Gryllus domesticus, 286 ; G. abreviatus, etc., 290j G. pennsylvanicus, 
290 ; G. neglectus, 291. 

Har vest-fly, 312. 

Honey-bee, wax-workers, 175. 

Hornet, mode of building nest, 436 ; exterior of nest, 435 ; nest in- 
terior, 437 ; larvae, 442 ; prey of, 443 ; superstitions about, 445. 

Humble-bee, entrance to nest, 145 ; queen and workers, 153 ; nest 
and cells, 159 ; mode of upholstering nest, 163-166; raising the 
young, 168; enemies, 170; wax-workers, 176; mouth organs, 177; 
regurgitating honey, 178 ; bee-basket, 180 ; leg of bee, 181. 

Katy-did, 284, 294; musical organs, 299; figure of, 301; nocturnal 
insects, 302; development, 302; scientific name, 302; supersti- 
tions about, 309. 

" Locust" (so-called', see Cicada. 
Locust, figures of, 311. 
Looping caterpillars, 104. 

Manduca ATROPOS, 81. 

May-flies, 353. 

Megachile centuncularis, 406, M. mendica. 

Measuring-worms, 109. 

Mole-cricket, 147. 

Moths, poly phemus, 40 sq.; cecropia,48: spinning organs, 49; cynthia, 
53; silk, name of, 61; superstitions concerning, 77 sq. ; death's- 
head moth, 77, 82; clothes moth, 85; apple-worm moth, 92; 
geometrids, 104: Tussock, 105: anisopteryx, 112; canker-worm, 
112: orchard moth. 113: leaf-rolling, 413; eggs, 415.; mode of 
rolling leaves. 416 ; tent-muking, 421. 

Music, insect, 277, 294, 299. 

Nemobius vittatvs. 291. 
Xephila Wilderi, 60. 
Xotolophus leucostigma, 106. 
Nomenclature, scientific, 58. 

CECANTTTOS KIVEUS. 286, 293. 

Orb-weaving spiders, 200. 
Orthoptera, characteristics, 284, 286. 

Paleacrita vernata, 112. 

Parasol-ant, 243, 336. 

Pheidole pilifer, 348, P. pennsylvanicus. 

Philosarnia cynthia. 52. 

Phlegethontius quinque-maculata, 71. 

Pogonomyrmex barbatus, 246, 333; P. occidentalis, 346. 

Polistes annularis, 430. 



460 INDEX. 

Polyphemus moth, -10; larva, 41; cocoon, 42; pupa, 46 ; name, 61. 
Potato-worm, 60 ; pupa, 70. 
Propolis, 181. 

Samia cecropia, 49. 

Seventeen-year locust, see Cicada. 

Sewing insects, 404; see Tailoring. 

Skunk, raids bees' nests, 170. 

Sphinx moths, 60, 72. 

Spiders, argiope aurantia, 14; webs spun over water, 25; collecting 
specimens of, 27; baby spiders, 31, 139; snare of Cyclosa. 32; 
cocoons, ditto, 33; cocoon of argiope argyraspis, 35: spinning 
organs, 49; tarentula arenicola, 129; turret spider, 131-141; 
aeronautic, 140 : suspension bridges, 192, 202; flying, 192 ; mount- 
ing into air, 196; ballooning, 199,228; orb-weaver's snare, 200, 
211-214; bridge lines, 202; baby bridge-builders, 204; water- 
spider's nest, 208; putting in radii and spirals, 214; spiral foun- 
dations, 215; viscid beads, 216; Brnce and the spider, 218; super- 
stitions about, 214; sewed nest of spectacle spider, 404; nest of 
shamrock spider, 405; webs, 427. 

Spinning organs of spiders and moths, 48. 

Tailoring insects. 402; insect sewing, 403; leaf-cutter bee, 406; leaf- 
rolling moth. 413. 

Tarentula arenicola, 129, or Lycosa arenicola, 

Tent-making caterpillars, figures of moths, 421; ovipositing, 422"; 
tent-spinning, 423 ; processions, 424. 

Thridopteryx Psychidse, 384. 

Tinea pellionella, 86 ; T. pomonella, 93. 

Tobacco-worm, 69. 

Tomato-worm, 69. 

Troglodytes, 123. 

Turret-s'pider, 130: nest and tower, 131; cotton-lined nest, 13.4 ; seek- 
ing prey, 135; mother and cocoon, 137; baby spiders. 139; tower 
with stone foundation, 141. 

Tussock moth, 105. 

Vanessa, pupa of. 50. 
Yespa maculata, see Hornet. 

Wasps, nest of ringed wasp, 430 ; nest site, 431 ; gathering wood, 432 ; 

larvae, 433; cells, 434. 
Wax, bees', 175. 

Web, spider, how made, 213, 233. 
Wilder's Nephila, 60. 

Yellow jackets, 170. 



TENANTS of an OLD FARM. 



The following extracts from reviews show with what cordiality this 
book has been received and how highly it is ranked. 



Of Scientific Worth. 

"Of special value, for we have in it 
a popular account of scientific subjects 
by one who has himself observed every- 
thing he describes. The scientific state- 
ments of the author are not only reliable, 
but coming directly from nature they 
still retain evidence of direct contact with 
life, which is so sure to disappear with 
too many repetitions. 11 — Science. 

" Embodies the result 01 accurate and 
minute observation, and cannot fail to be 
of as much value as interest to working 
naturalists.' — Bost Christian Register. 

"Accurate and scientific information 
embodying the results of the very latest 
research in this deparment." — National 
Baptist. Phii a. 

" Probably there is no one in America i 
who is better fitted to guide the young 
in the study of his sphere of natural his- 
tory." — Sunday School Times. Pkila. 

'Of the highest order of interest The 
author has made studies and drawings of 
the insects which can be found on any 
old farm, and has made discoveries which 
give him a high place among entomolo 
gists."' — Chicago Advance. 

"Dr. McCook is an enthusiastic nat- 
uralist, and ,- n one particular branch of 
study— that of the habits of ants and 
spiders — stands as high as any living 
writer." — Boston Eve?iing Transcript. 

"Mr. McCo k has literally lived among 
his pets, has studied them by day and by 
night in their natural state, has not 
scrupled to subject himself to their for- 
midable stings, and has deemed no pains 
too great to make the wo-ld acquainted 
vith insects upon which ne looks with 
a species of respectful veneration. He 
is, in truth, a veritable enthusiast, and it 
would indeed seem as though ants, bees 
and wasps, all belonging to the same 
order of insects, possessed a fascination 
for the true naturalist far greater than 
that excited by larger animals." 1 — The 
Westminster Review (British). 

Attractive. 

"A charming account of a series of ex- 
cursions over woodlawn and meadow, 
and is full of a great variety of informa- 
tion about ah sorts and conditions of in 
sects, written by a naturalist of acknowl- 
edged authority."' — Boston Post. 

" Contains the results of a series of 
rarefully ^ondu^ted observations on diff- 



erent species of insects, their dispositions 
and habits, all of which are detailed in 
such a familiar, winning style that no one 
can fail to be fascinated with the study." 
— New I ork Observe r. 

"' Delightful talks on the characteris- 
tics and habits of insects, the part they 
play in the economy of the animal and 
vegetable world, the superstitions con- 
nected with them, and other points fitted 
to arrest and hold the attention." — Bos- 
ton A dvertiser. 

" Belongs to a class which might with 
great profit take the place of much of the 
literature, sentimental and otherwise, 
which finds its way into the hands of our 
children through Sunday School and 
other libraries. It is pleasantly written, 
and beautifully illustrated with original 
drawings from nature. 11 — New York Ex- 
aminer. 

'•When one possesses the power of 
vitalizing the bones of science as Dr. 
McCook does, there are few who will not 
yield to the c'narm." — Yale Literary 
Magazine. 

" Mr. Dan Beard has brightened it by a 
great many comical adaptations sketch- 
ing spiders, ants and other dramatis 
Persona? in keeping with his facetious 
conception of their characters ; while 
the matter-of-fact natural history draw- 
ings (of marked excellence I are by Mr. 
Edward Shepard and Mr. Frank Stout " 1 
Lafter the author's sketches from na- 
ure]. — Boston Literary World. 

"Worth Having or Giving. 

" The book is a beautiful one. and 
would make a charming present to one 
of scientific tastes." — Chicago Advance. 

'"Heartily recommended to the atten- 
tion of all who are themselves interested 
in natural history or are seeking some 
means of interesting young friends in 
this subject. 1 ' — Portland Press ^ Me. 

"We wish that our farmers who are 
giving their sons a Christmas present 
would choose this book. It would h- In 
them to see many things to which they 
may now be blind." — Presbyteria?i, Phil- 
adelphia. 

"The scientific accuracy, the good 
illustrations and simple descriptions make 
it a valuable book for amateurs and a 
good book of reference for advanced stu- 
dents in that department of natural his- 
tory." '— Springfield Republican. 



DEC 39 W02 



